Out to Dinner
by Michael C. Ryan
Summary: For the second time in his life, Buzz comes to the crossroads of what it means to be a toy.
1. Reading Week

To note that this story takes place after my alternate ending of the _Toy Story_ franchise would be useful. The only important difference is the fact that their new owner is Michael Ryan who's older sister, Ashley, is a university student and good friends with Andy Davis. My profile and website have more if you're at all curious.

A small fact: This is based on a true story (not including the toys, of course).

Enjoy!

* * *

It's remarkable how much a toy can come to trust their owner. It takes time, certainly, for the child to prove his or her care for them; but as Woody, from his place on the motorway-patterned carpet, watched Buzz being hoisted up by nothing but a string tied around his adjustable torso, the cowboy doll simply marvelled at the amusement his owner was experiencing imagining Buzz Lightyear flying through the air. Sure, he himself was on the verge of a mild nervous breakdown out of concern for his good friend's safety, but the trust he had towards his young possessor overhauled that anxiety by so much, it startled him somewhat. But hey, what could he do about it anyhow?

"'Oh, no,'" the young boy cried, "'Emperor Zurg is sending his evil robots after us!'" He crawled over from his kneeling position by the foot of the bed, not before adjusting the string wrapped around the bedpost so that Buzz would be lowered and set soundly on the floor. He picked up the Transformer toy so it stood upright and steered the tank truck over by its side. "'_Pew_! _Pew, pew_!'" A series of imaginary gun shots flew towards Buzz at great speed.

"'Buzz, look out!'" Woody was as swiftly picked up as he was set down again, just enough time to warn the space ranger of the incoming flurry of shots.

The look of confidence in Buzz's heroic face never ceased much to his owner's personal pride. The space toy was lifted into the air again, this time without the assistance of a string but instead with the firm hold of a child's hand. His plastic right arm was raised and pointed towards the enemies. "'Not today, minions of Zurg.'" With that, his thumb pressed into the red button on the space ranger's forearm, activating the laser. The red beam harmlessly struck the two attacking toys, but their owner's hand came and clouted them down; the Transformer fell off its feet, and the tank flipped onto its side.

Crawling on his hands and knees with Woody in his vigilant grip, he made his way over to where Bullseye and Slinky lay next to a defeated Rocky. He removed the pieces of string secured around Bullseye's mane and through the loop on Slinky's chest. "'You're free!'" As Slinky was dragged across the floor and out of the way after a grateful bark and imaginary lick across Woody's face, the sheriff was situated on Bullseye's saddle. "'Let's go help Buzz. _Giddy-up_!'" He walked on his knees, all the while making Bullseye run across the floor, back to where Buzz waited for company.

"Michael," called a stifled voice.

"Yeah, mommy," he replied, zealously watching Buzz soar through space at his own arm's length.

From the other side of his slightly ajar door, his mother stood by the railing at the bottom of the staircase, looking up towards her son's bedroom, wiping off her hands with a towel. "Honey, come downstairs. Daddy said he's almost home."

With Buzz still in his grip, Michael dashed across the room and flung open his door in excitement. "Ashley, too?" he said, his face pressed between two bars of the railing as he stared down through them towards her.

She laughed quietly. "Ashley, too, sweetheart. Come down so we're ready for them."

"'Kay." In a hurry, Michael returned into the solitude of his room, stepping over the toys scattered over the floor. After returning Buzz's plastic wings into their locked position and adjusting his legs so they bent forward, he set the toy down on top of his bed, leaning him against the pillow. "Ashley's coming home," he reminded gleefully. He scurried around the twin-sized bed and picked Woody up off the floor. He sat the cloth cowboy down not far from the space ranger. "Mommy says she's staying for a while."

Michael moved swiftly to pick up all of the toys and put them in their places. While most of them went into the toy chest, some had regular spots in the room, like Rex's corner next to the bean bag chair and the hobbyhorse, or Jessie's spot by the windowsill (a place he would have Buzz sometimes share with her in the evening to be on the lookout in case of a surprise attack by Zurg's forces).

"Michael?"

Hastily, he parked his toy truck among the rest of his toy vehicles. "'Coming, mom!" Without a final inspection, he left the room and closed the door behind him, causing the magnetic dart board hanging off of it to swing.

Things were still for a moment – that is until the sound of rattling change rang through to disturb the peace.

"Hey, no worries, little buddy," Hamm declared from his upside-down position as though his owner could hear him. He was swinging himself back and forth in the place on the floor he was overseen. "I'll get myself up." Rex came to his side as the piggy bank attempted to roll himself over, which became somewhat difficult thanks to the gap of his coin slit well-balancing him on his back. After a second of watching him struggle, Rex and Rocky finally came behind him to help him to his hoofs.

"So how long is she staying for?" Slinky inquired.

"A week," Mr. Potato Head replied, "hence the term 'Reading Week', genius."

Michael's toys quietly began to converse among themselves during the temporary absence of their owner. From atop the bed, Woody got to his feet, watching them all as he pondered to himself. Buzz, in the meantime, slid down the side of the bed to the floor.

"Andy used to have a March Break. Why did they change the name?"

"Because it's not March yet."

"Does she have to read the whole week?"

"Give me back my ear, you primitive buffoon!"

Woody grabbed his hat from where it was left behind on the pillow and replaced it onto his head. "Guys, listen up for a minute."

It took a moment, but with some help and a few hisses and hushes among the toys, they all eventually settled down and directed their attention towards the sheriff.

He slid down off the bed and landed next to Buzz. "I'll keep it brief: Now, look, we're all a little keyed up what with Ashley coming home for the week. But with that comes responsibility not just on Michael's part, but on ours as well. So that means no monkey business-"

Mr. Potato Head was stepping on the bookshelf in a feeble attempt to reach Moco, who stood on the highest shelf. The stuffed monkey held Potato Head's ear by the grip of his tail tauntingly. Potato Head grimaced at the sight of the mass group of toys' directed stares. "Don't look at me!" His frustration grew when his ear dropped onto his head and bounced across the floorboards.

Woody continued, "Nothing that'll cause any pieces to break or batteries to run out. Reading Week means Ashley's gonna be studying for midterms, so we've gotta keep Michael preoccupied and cause no problems that make him go running to his sister to fix. 'We clear?"

"Like Buzz's bubble," Jessie proclaimed as she tapped lightly on Buzz's plastic helmet. Buzz twisted his face, recoiling.

From downstairs, the toys heard the front door swing open, followed by Michael's joyous cry.

"Ashley!"

~ O ~

Eight o'clock was Michael's usual bedtime, although exceptions were often made on Friday nights, especially those nights when his sister took time out of her busy schedule to return home. After dinner and a little television with his family, the young boy was finally instructed to ready himself for bed.

"I'll come to say goodnight, Michael."

In his room, after brushing his teeth and changing into his favourite red and navy blue pyjamas, he sat cross-legged by his toy chest, turning the knobs of the Etch-a-Sketch in a desperate attempt to create a proper diagonal line to form the roof of a two-dimensional version of his house. As he had been putting his remaining toys away, including returning his piggy bank to his nightstand after a deserving apology, the temptation of the Etch-a-Sketch couldn't be resisted.

The distraction his toy caused him did not allow him to bear witness to his older sister sneaking into the room and hopping onto his bed. His oblivion to her presence remained until she sighed dramatically as she hugged his toy space ranger and cowboy close to her. "Good night," she groaned.

Michael got to his feet, leaving Etch on the floor by the toy chest, and rushed to the bedside. "Hey," he laughed. He grabbed the pillow and playfully attempted to pull it out from under her head. She giggled impishly, pulling it back before thrusting her hands under his arms and hoisting him up onto the bed.

"'You miss me?" she asked.

Kneeling in front of her, he raised his finger to his chin and looked up towards the ceiling in consideration. "Mm…"

"Oh, yeah?" Again, Ashley lifted him up with her hands under his arms. Michael laughed more hysterically as he was raised into the air directly above her. "Did you miss me now?"

"_Yes_," he affirmed, squirming in her grip.

Her arms gave in, and she set him down so he kneeled with his legs on either side of her hips. She gently patted his blonde hair when he leaned forward and rested his small body comfortably on top of hers, his head relaxed just by her neck. Just as she noticed her eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, she distracted herself from her weariness by grabbing Buzz by the torso and raising him to Michael's view. "To infinity…"

Michael's head perked up almost immediately. "And beyond!" he finished.

Ashley smiled. "'Never fails." By the control of her arm, Buzz swooped down head-first, veering wildly around her brother. "Buzz Lightyear, Mission Log: There appears to be a little boy in dire need of some sleep. His eyes are closing, his energy diminishing quickly…"

"He can't fly like that," he suddenly protested, laughing at her as though it was sheer common sense. "His wings aren't open."

"Oh, whoops. Oh, no! He's gonna crash! 'Look out, Woody!'" The space toy came hurdling down towards where the cowboy doll was lying next to her. Before disaster struck, she pushed the red, circular button on Buzz's chest. As soon as his wings were fully extended, she swiftly steered him into a U-turn, just narrowly avoiding contact with his cowboy friend. "'_Phew_, that was close.'"

Out of instinct, Michael snatched Woody up and hugged him protectively as soon as Buzz had cleared him. With Woody in his embrace, the mission log Buzz had entered began to come true; he felt his eyelids becoming heavy.

"All right," Ashley proclaimed when she noticed this, "sleepy time."

Michael was uncooperative at first, his remaining energy stubbornly fighting to outmatch his fatigue to spend a little more time playing; but as his sister lifted him off of her and set him on the bed, his energy found itself fighting a losing battle.

He giggled when she tickled him under his arm.

"See you in the morning, buddy."

"Can we play tomorrow?"

Ashley shook her head. "No, Michael; I'm sorry. 'Remember what mom and dad said."

The disappointment in his eyes was clear. He pulled Buzz out from where he was nearly trapped under the covers. "When?"

It was an unintentional guilt trick, but Ashley fell for it nonetheless. She, too, had been waiting all this time to finally spend time with her little brother, who would talk to her almost every night on the phone, telling her how much he missed her and couldn't wait for her to come home to play with him.

An idea suddenly clicked. "Hey, I'll tell you what," she proclaimed as she finished tucking her brother in, then kneeling down beside the bed. "What if I took you out for dinner tomorrow night? Just you and me?"

"Yeah." Michael's enthusiasm returned in an instant. He sat himself up in bed.

"Did you wanna go to _Pizza Planet_ again, or did you wanna try something else?"

Attention turning to his shifting of Woody's hand between each of his own fingers, Michael shrugged indifferently. _Pizza Planet_ was easily one of his favourite places, but all that fuelled his anticipation was finally spending some long-awaited time with his sister.

"What if we tried something new?" Ashley suggested. "My friend told me about this restaurant called _Lone Star_ that I think you'll like. It's got a cool cowboy theme to it."

To Ashley's amusement, a sudden gasp escaped Michael as he shifted his body so he sat up even further. "Yeah! Let's go there!"

She chuckled. "Okey-doke, so it's settled then." She got to her feet. "All right, but that means you gotta sleep now."

The wide grin on Michael's face never faded, in fact only grew by the second, as he reached over for the cowboy hat hanging from the bedpost.

"No, Michael; 'time to sleep," she said again.

"This is how cowboys sleep." Readjusting himself under his covers, he set the hat on top of his head so it covered his eyes, afterwards placing Woody in the same position. Both their hands rested atop their stomachs and hats lay over their eyes when he was finished.

Ashley laughed whole-heartedly at her brother. She picked Buzz up and set him atop the adjacent accent chair. "Buzz'll be here makin' sure none of them outlaws sneak up on you two," she joked.

Michael snickered, peeking out from under his hat.

Brushing away his blonde bangs, she kissed him on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, cowboy."

"Woody, too," he pronounced. He picked Woody up from where he lay next to him against the pillow, adjusting his hat so it sat on top of his head again.

Ashley grinned, clearly entertained by her brother's unwillingness for her to leave, and complied as Woody was held up to her. "All right," she said. She leaned forward and softly gave the cowboy doll a small kiss on the cheek, smiling afterwards in subtle amusement. "Good night, Sheriff."

She left him as Michael repositioned the cloth doll next to him. She stopped in the doorway. "'You promise you'll go to sleep?"

"Yeah," he assured her.

Ashley nodded and turned out the light. "G' night."

"'Night."

Michael would have sweet dreams. He would have dreams about what the restaurant would be like, what the men and women would be dressed like, and best of all, being there with the pleasant, long-anticipated company of his older sister. Michael flipped onto his side towards where Woody lay, hugging the fellow cowboy close, disregarding his own cowboy hat falling off the side of the pillow as he instead focused on adjusting Woody's.

* * *

If you haven't been to _Lone Star _yet, make time one night to do so, especially you're at all interested in the whole Western/Texas setting for dining. That said, thank you for reading this far. I know Reading Week is quite a distance away for most students, but because I'm still fresh into the semester, it's good of me to get a head start.


	2. One Hundred Percent Cowboy

_Work, work, all week long,  
Punchin' that clock from dusk till dawn.  
Countin' the days till Friday night;  
That's when all the conditions are right  
For a good time.  
__I need a good time._

Of all the ideas Mr. Ryan contributed towards the house, from practical to unneeded, the speakers were his personal favourite. It was an idea a co-worker had shared with him: In more or less every room of the house, there would be a small amplifier mounted to the wall, preferably in a corner or behind a shelf so it wasn't too blatant. It would have no dials, no tuning knobs or track-changing buttons. All it would have is a power switch and a volume control knob.

This was an idea he thought at first would be necessary to uphold the intimacy of his family, but both rapidly and voluntarily became one of the most appreciated electronic apparatuses in their household. Surprisingly enough, other than their phones, it also became the most used. In the kitchen, just behind where Mr. Ryan sat at his usual place at the dining table reading the newspaper columns, the main sound system rested flat upon a table with several CDs stacked on top of it.

Now, from just about anywhere in the house, anybody could listen to what he was.

_Yeah, I've been workin' all week,  
And I'm tired, and I don't wanna sleep,  
I wanna have fun;  
It's time for a good time._

The house was quiet other than that. From upstairs, he could scarcely hear the shower running as his daughter readied herself for a night out to dinner with her brother. He had sardonically commented earlier about not being on the guest list, but respected the decision; he knew how badly Michael wanted to spend time with his big sister.

"Daddy."

Mr. Ryan turned around, startled by the small voice calling for him from so close. He smiled upon the sight of his young son standing in the middle of the kitchen with nothing but his pants, cowboy boots, and a small smile on. By the plastic hand and part of the cloth forearm, Michael clung to one of his favourite toys, a cowboy doll with a cow-print vest and sheriff's badge.

"Can you help me, please?" Michael asked respectfully.

Mr. Ryan put down the newspaper and was on his feet in an instant. "Sure thing, buddy. Lead the way."

He followed Michael as he scurried back down the hall from which he had come. Listening to the heels of his cowboy boots clatter against the marble, he was surprised he hadn't heard him amble into the kitchen before. "'Careful," he said when Michael stumbled over one of the stairs.

When they reached Michael's room, as Mr. Ryan decided to switch on the speaker in the bedroom to continue listening to his music, the blonde child went over to his bed and set Woody down on the edge of it, managing to balance him so he was sitting upright. "I can't find a vest, Daddy," he pronounced, a hint of frustration of his voice.

Mr. Ryan chuckled. "You don't need a vest, pal."

"Yeah, I do."

After a quick glance around the room, he gestured to where his cowgirl doll was comfortably positioned atop the inside ledge of the sash window. "Jessie doesn't have one."

"But she's a girl."

Again, Mr. Ryan laughed quietly. "Here, let's have a look." He pulled open the top drawer of his dresser and began to rummage through his clothes.

_Heel, toe, dosey doe;  
Scootin' our boots, swingin' doors.  
B & D, Kix and Dunn,  
Honky-tonk heaven, Double shotgun;  
Good time,  
Lord, we're havin' a good time._

"You know, there've been a lot of great cowboys over the decades," he explained, "and not all of them wore vests. It's more of a thing for sheriffs to wear, anyway."

"I'm not the sheriff, Dad," Michael pointed out.

"Ah, that's right. So, what are you then?"

Michael squeezed his hands together excitedly, fiddling with his fingers in the process. "I'm a deputy."

"A deputy. Well, let me see here… _Ah_, perfect." From underneath the sweater his sister-in-law had gotten Michael for Christmas, Mr. Ryan pulled out an orange, blue, and white plaid, collar shirt with pockets on the chest and buttons along the front. "This is exactly what a brave deputy would wear."

Cowboy boots still clattering loudly against the floorboards, Michael ecstatically rushed over to see the shirt more closely.

"Put it on; let's see it on you."

_I've been workin' all week,  
And I'm tired, and I don't wanna sleep,  
And I wanna have fun;  
'Time for a good time_

With his father's help, he slipped his arms through the sleeves. His father turned him around to face him in order to do up the buttons. "You know, your grandpa used to tell me a lot of stories when I was your age," he said. "He told me about some of the greatest, most courageous cowboys that ever lived. Charles Colcord, Oliver Loving, Pistol Pete… Heck, even Theodore Roosevelt."

Michael nodded, pretending for the moment's sake that he recognized all of those names.

"When I was your age, all I ever wanted to be was a cowboy," he admitted. "But all my friends and classmates always talked about was the Apollo landing. I won't lie; it was all really cool-sounding; back then, all the kids wanted was to go into space."

"Like Buzz?"

He nodded. "Yeah, like Buzz." He finished doing up the buttons of Michael's shirt and grabbed the hat from where it hung on the bedpost. "But…" he said as he placed it on Michael's head, "I never forgot about those cowboy stories."

A full-length mirror hung nearby from his wall. Michael looked into it, smiling upon his reflection. His small hand reached up and grabbed the hat by the rim, adjusting it so it sat farther up atop his head. From beside him, still bent down to his level, his father patted his back gently. "There. 'Just like a real deputy," he assured as he fixed the collar.

"Howdy, partner," he repeated from memory.

The two were suddenly graced with the presence of a familiar, small Maltese dog. The energetic canine rushed into the room, his chain collar jangling against his neck, and hoisted himself up on Mr. Ryan's knee.

"Mickey," Michael laughed, watching as their family dog scurried over to where Rex was propped on top of two stacks of books. He sniffed the toy dinosaur, his tail wagging vigorously.

Mr. Ryan stood up straight. "Come on, space cowboy. Let's go bug your mom."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, pal?"

Michael tugged at the belt loops on his jeans. "I need a belt, too."

~ O ~

"You're bringing your toys?"

As per his parents' constant instructions, Michael kept a precautious grip on the banister as he made his way down the stairs in his cowboy boots. Woody, Jessie and Bullseye were all tucked behind his arm at his torso, plastic boots and hoofs dangling, swinging after each careful step. "Yeah," he replied as though it were obvious. "It's cowboys."

"That's right; but it's dinner, buddy." Ashley finished zipping up her jacket before helping her brother down the last few steps. "Woody and Jessie don't eat."

"Yeah they do."

She chuckled. "Oh, of course. What was I thinking?" She bent down to his level with his winter coat at hand. "Well, I'm sure they've already eaten."

Michael shook his head. "I wanna bring them." He hugged them close stubbornly.

Ashley sighed, and then protruded her bottom lip. "But I thought you wanted to spend time with me tonight."

"You too."

"Nope, it's too late. My heart's already broken." She exaggerated her gestures as she turned away. But Michael caught on to her playful ways and ran his small body into hers. "Oh," she huffed, "you expect me to forgive you just like that?"

"Yes," he giggled. He snuggled closer.

Ashley rubbed the top of his head. "All right, point made. 'Tell you what: You can bring one of them with us. But that's it; one or none. 'That fair?"

The young cowboy, somewhat disappointed, nodded after turning Jessie over to cast her a sympathetic look.

"If I guess which one it's gonna be, would you give me a penny?" she asked him.

"I'd prefer if you didn't teach your brother how to gamble, thanks." Mrs. Ryan emerged from the laundry room with a basket full of clean clothes, switching off the light after her. "Michael, honey, put your toys back in your room; I don't want something else to step on."

"Mommy, Woody's gonna come, too," he informed his mother enthusiastically. Subconsciously, he handed Jessie and Bullseye to his sister as he awaited a reaction from his mother at the news.

Ashley began her way up the stairs with the toys. "I could've had myself a whole penny right now, mom."

"Spare me the grief." She and her daughter shared a small laugh as she set down the laundry basket and bent down to put on Michael's jacket. "'You excited?"

"Yeah."

"You look good." She brushed her finger on his chin swiftly. "So handsome."

"Ashley said she's gonna make me a badge like Woody's," he pronounced, holding Woody up with the arm already within the jacket sleeve.

"Very cool. Hold your head up." She zipped the jacket up to near his chin. "You're all set."

"My hat."

Mrs. Ryan followed his pointed finger towards the floor just by where the staircase began. She laughed quietly to herself. "What's a cowboy without his hat?" Grabbing it, she did the honour of placing it atop his head. "Perfect. But you're gonna have to take that off when you get there, okay?"

"M-hm," he replied, pressing the hat down so it sat more snug.

Ashley came back down the stairs in her own Western getup mostly hidden by her jacket, but her cowboy boots and hat quite clear. "Okay, we'll head out."

"Now don't forget to drive carefully, all right?" Mrs. Ryan insisted. "It's pretty slippery."

"'Got it. I won't go past 80 miles per hour."

"Don't you dare."

She laughed as she lightly pressed her hand against the back of her little brother, urging him forward. "Come on, buddy." She opened the door, greeting the household with a cool rush of air. "We'll see you later, 'kay?"

"All right. Have fun, you two."

"Have fun, guys," called Mr. Ryan's voice from down the hall.

"Thanks, dad," Ashley called back. "Bye, guys."

"Bye, mommy! Bye, daddy!"

From atop the balcony near Michael's bedroom, as the family said their goodbyes to each other, Buzz, Jessie and Bullseye decided to silently bid the siblings and their fellow toy goodbye as well. As soon as the front door finally shut, Jessie turned to Bullseye. "Don't be too disappointed, boy," she assured the somewhat saddened horse; "they'll probably bring leftovers."

Buzz laughed as Bullseye whinnied at the teasing tone in her voice.

~ O ~

"You'd better be ready to do some line-dancing, pal," Ashley advised. "I hear they take it pretty seriously on Saturday nights."

The night was less than quiet that night. Even for how small Tri-County Area was, for all the students returning home for Reading Week, it came as no surprise that they would take advantage of their time off of school and back to their hometown where familiar faces satisfyingly greeted them. The road was rather clear; Ashley presumed it was because the famous local pub was at the other end of the city. The winter weather was bearable, but she blasted the heat anyway.

"Can you show me?" Michael asked politely.

She nodded. "Sure. Not right now though, if that's okay with you." she chuckled.

"'Kay."

"It's not too hard."

Michael nodded and returned his attention to Woody, who stood upright on his thigh by the help of Michael's grasp on his torso. He loved Woody, of course, but this had to be one of the very few times he was taking him out. A lot of the times, it was Buzz who was in his grip and being held up by the backseat window to create the illusion of the space ranger flying at the same speed as the car's velocity, or in Michael's head, light speed.

But as he stroked Woody's cheekbone with his thumb the way he'd seen Ashley do a couple of times before, he realized the truth in his father's words: As much as he'd always dreamed of going on space adventures with Buzz Lightyear, his television hero, there'd always been a little cowboy in him as he'd sit there with his father, his true hero, and watch an old Western movie.

Michael adjusted his hat, pulling it down over his eyes slightly, before doing the same with Woody's. Just like he and his father had seen the cowboys do in the movies.

"'You wanna put on some cowboy music?"

Michael was quick to reply: "Yeah."

Ashley began to fiddle with the radio buttons . But she was distracted as, far off at the other end of the road visible to her, she noticed a car speeding down her lane in an attempt to surpass another vehicle. "Ugh, this always gets me paranoid," she admitted more to herself than to her brother, who likely couldn't even see from his car seat.

The vehicle it was trying to surpass was going just under speed limit, which was more than rational for the conditions of the roads that winter evening. It wouldn't be long before she and the two vehicles would pass each other. But, for some reason, the car was still speeding in the opposite lane towards her, still practically cruising alongside the other vehicle.

"Is he crazy?" She honked her car horn, something she hadn't done since her driving lessons when she was sixteen after directives from her driving instructor.

At a glimpse, Ashley could tell that the driver of the car full of five people was at that point where he had no idea what to do anymore. By instinct, he pressed his foot onto the brake pedal. The black ice that coated the roads did it no good. Ashley found herself doing the same. She swerved the wheel so they would steer out of the other car's path. The ditch at the side of the road showed them no mercy as their car flipped down the hill several times until landing on its side at the bottom.

* * *

Yes, it was as scary as it sounds. Especially when it's your own little brother in the back seat. I'm very glad you've read this far. I strongly encourage reviews, and I'd just like to thank GoldenFlither and dmwcool1 for their always-appreciated reviews. They always make my day a better one.

Credit of course goes to Alan Jackson for the use of his lyrics for his song 'Good Time'.


	3. Trapped

"_Oh_, and he is _outta _there!"

Mr. Potato Head watched in dismay as the car went flying off the track and flip numerous times across the room. The red toy Ford Mustang landed on its back near the bookshelf full of children's books, its wheels spinning frantically in a feeble, frustrated attempt to get back right-side up. Potato Head threw his plastic hands up in the air in equal, if not more, aggravation.

"Come on, Green!" cried Rex. The green Ferrari rushed by his foot along the track at what seemed like a speed even Buzz Lightyear never thought possible when he thought he was a real space ranger. It was now the green Ferrari, silver Jet Threat, and blue Chevelle on the remaining three tracks.

Hamm turned to Rocky and the Transformer toy. "I'm raising to ten."

They both nodded.

The red car drove up next to Jessie, who sat by the track watching the race more impartially now. She patted its hood. "I was cheering you on," she assured it. The car popped a wheelie before once again parking itself by her side.

Buzz, all the while, sat on the other side of the cowgirl, even more disinterested in the race than anybody. He watched the small Hot Wheels cars go around several laps per minute down the complex track of loops and sharp curves. But even so, he'd constantly be averting his gaze elsewhere, either to where Bo kept an eye on her sheep scurrying around, to Mrs. Potato Head sharing her accessories with Ashley's TY dolls that had decided to join them in Michael's room, to the other Hot Wheels cars that'd lost previous races that night enjoying a drive along the road print mat near Michael's bed.

"I don't get what y'all find so exciting about this," Slinky proclaimed as he came up next to Potato Head. "It's just them goin' around the same loop over and over again."

"If you want, we could hold a dog race instead," Potato Head rejoined sarcastically.

Slinky rolled his eyes, stopping himself from replying out of respect for the plastic potato's loss.

"And here they come around for the final lap," Hamm announced, mimicking the voice of an energetic NASCAR announcer.

The Little Green Aliens suddenly decided to join the group of toys huddled around the track, brushing by Buzz's shoulder with all nine eyes curiously observing the race taking place. "_Ooh_," they said in unison, following the cars with a pointed finger. After a moment, they hopped over closer to the track.

"Not too close!" Hamm cried.

One squeeze-toy alien's reaction time was less than enough as he stood on part of the track, staring along with his fellow aliens at Hamm, slowly processing the piggy bank's instructions. But by then, the three racing cars were turning that last corner and hurdling towards the alien in harm's way.

This was hardly the case as, just when the squeeze-toy was beginning to move off the track, two of the three cars crashed into him harmlessly. The blue and silver cars were sent back as though having collided into a vertical trampoline, while the green car just barely managed to avoid the obstacle.

"Hurray!" cried Rex as the green Ferrari passed the finish line. The toy T-Rex hopped around from foot to foot, clapping his hands together. "I've never won anything before."

Hamm slouched in disappointment, as did all the other toys with stake in the race. "Well, there go Michael's under-the-sofa lost change findings for the next three years." He slid the pennies and nickels across the floorboards over to Rex with his hoof.

Mr. Potato Head had on a satisfied grin the whole time. "Nice work, boys."

The Pizza Planet aliens only glanced at him briefly before returning their attention to the blue and silver cars desperately trying to get around the alien still on the track and finally finish the race.

All the while, Buzz was blindly watching the quarrel. He turned his focus briefly towards the bedroom window. It wasn't snowing hard as it was during the day, but the winds were a lot stronger; the snow danced vigorously as it was swept off the grounds and tree branches. On the other side of that frost-coated window, it looked brisk and almost brutal.

"Hey, Buzz," Hamm pronounced. The other toys were preparing for another round. "'You in?"

Quickly, Buzz returned his attention back after Jessie gave him a small nudge. "Yeah- Yeah, I'm in." He threw in the nickel in his hand. "I'll bet to place."

~ O ~

Woody couldn't hear much; everything around him sounded muffled. All he managed to barely make out was the several voices of panic-stricken strangers. He could very much relate to the horror that had come over the people who bore witness to the events that took place not minutes ago.

Although he knew he was still inside the car, he couldn't tell much more than that. Not at the moment, anyway. After deeming it a decent time to do so, he eventually sat up as far as he could, though the space was limited. The ceiling was a lot closer than he remembered. He rubbed his head, pushing his hat back farther up his head, before pulling it down again to where Michael had adjusted it.

A silent gasp escaped him. A brief glance around did him little good as he discovered the utter darkness of his surroundings. At the first sign of even the faintest light, Woody crawled towards it – it was all he could really do when realizing the gap between the ceiling and the floor was so minimal. He peeked through the gap where the inadequate amount of light was pouring through. With his hands grasping the rim, he pulled himself close and looked around.

Finally, he came across the familiar, and at the same time frighteningly unfamiliar, sight. Immediately casting his gaze upwards, he recognized that long, wavy hair hanging down. A sense of dread grew deep within him as he stared up at the young woman sitting upright – motionless, her chin resting upon her chest. Terror-stricken, Woody silently urged her to awaken for her and her brother's sake.

Grief continued to fill him as he pushed against the undisclosed sturdy piece he was leaning on and crawled over in the opposite direction. It became increasingly difficult to see the deeper he went. He squinted until he saw a sliver of pale moonlight shining through. Pace quickened by anxiety, he hastily found a large enough space he was able to peek through and stared out, shifting his eyes in a frantic attempt to locate the one he worried about most.

The sharp breath that followed got caught in his throat at the sight of his young owner. The seatbelt straps, thankfully having been properly secured, kept the little boy remaining in his car seat, although now more awkwardly slouched within it. Similar to his older sister, his head hung down limp, leaning against the side of the car seat meant to protect his head. A lot of good that had done as Woody noticed that crimson substance dribbling from the side of his head and down his chin. The stain overlaid his tousled, blonde hair.

Desperately, Woody looked for a way of accompanying his owner. On his knees, the cowboy doll crawled across the floor, dragging his hand along mangled car parts that blocked his path to Michael, in restless search of an opening. He found several, but none that would allow him to pass through.

At this point, he was as trapped as they were.

~ O ~

"Honey, come on. Come back to the room."

Mrs. Potato Head waved him off. "You go ahead without me, dear. I'll stay here a while longer." With her sunglasses on, Mrs. Potato Head lay on a towel as she stared off at the beautiful sunset.

"Come on, Sweet Potato. I promise I'm done with the gambling."

She removed her sunglasses. "Swear to me," she demanded.

Mr. Potato Head made a cross with his index and middle fingers just below his lips. "I swear on our boys' squeakers."

"Good." She replaced her sunglasses, which were really just a plastic frame of them, back over her eyes. "But go away anyway. I'm not finished here."

He sighed hopelessly, also staring at the desktop of Ashley's laptop, which was a serene image of a tropical area with a sunset at the horizon. His lips formed a smirk when the computer went into power-saving mode, the screen going dark in the process. He set his fists on his sides and gazed shrewdly at his wife. Mrs. Potato Head raised her sunglasses. "Well?"

"Okay, okay," she muttered, holding her hand out impatiently.

Potato Head grasped it and helped his wife to her feet. "One day I'll surprise you with that Bahamas dream vacation you've always wanted."

"Oh, darling," Mrs. Potato Head swooned, holding her husband close. Not seconds later, she pushed him away and tapped his detachable ear. "Don't make promises you can't keep." She brushed passed him, leaving him and the twitching corner of his mouth. The TY dolls, now once again situated along the top of the headboard of Ashley's bed, giggled quietly at him.

The two of them, with Mrs. Potato Head leading the way, ambled out of the bedroom and down towards the end of the hallway. Buzz stood by the partially open door of Michael's room. "Let's go, you two. They're moving around a lot down there."

"Can you blame them?" They both went into the sanctuary of their owner's bedroom.

Buzz, after a final glance around the hallway, was about to enter in after the couple until he heard the growing sound of voices from downstairs.

"Don't tell me not to worry."

"Donna, please."

Buzz turned around, raising an eyebrow. Curious, he pulled in the door by its edge so it was nearly closed, and silently advance over to the wooden bars that propped up the railing. The space toy peered through one of the spaces and stared down at where Mr. Ryan followed Mrs. Ryan up the corridor towards the front entrance.

"She'd call."

"They're out having a good time. You're overreacting."

"Then why isn't she answering her phone? She was charging it all day."

"Probably one of the same reasons you sometimes don't pick up _your_ phone."

Mrs. Ryan shook her head. She tucked her hair behind her ear, then leaving her hand pressed at the side of her neck to keep the thin curls out of the way as she continued to be fretful. "It's not like her at all, Jeff," she told him. "No matter what, she'd take the time to answer or call back. I'm worried."

Mr. Ryan pulled her in for a small embrace. "Ashley's a big girl." He extended his arms, keeping a comforting grip on her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. "If anything's wrong, she'll call us. _Especially_ for Michael."

Head lowered, Mrs. Ryan wiped the edges of her eyes with her fingertips.

He bent down to get a better look at her. "All right?"

Mrs. Ryan nodded hesitantly, avoiding returning her husband's supportive gaze.

All the while, from where he continued to eavesdrop, Buzz was frowning. It had been less than twenty minutes since the siblings. It hadn't been long before Mrs. Ryan discovered that her daughter had left behind her student card, which she had intended to use in order to receive a discount that night. This wasn't the concerning part. What concerned the mother of two most was, after several calls to Ashley's phone, there had been no answer.

Buzz, on the other hand, although also expressing a reasonable amount of concern, agreed with Mr. Ryan. Ashley had proven on multiple occassions that she was a responsible young woman – Buzz was almost shocked by it. She shared that trustful quality with his previous owner, whom Buzz had thought to be one of the few rare exceptions to the common stereotype.

The more the space toy thought about it, the less he worried about it. He could just picture Michael and Ashley having a wonderful time together at the restaurant. He could vividly see, in his mind's eye, Michael desperately trying to follow the lead line dancer's steps, and although failing to do so, having a huge grin on his face anyway. He imagined Woody either there with him in his grasp, or set on the chair or table with a perfect view of the dance floor, watching Ashley and Michael learn the steps. Or at least try to. Based on what Jessie had tried to show him, line-dancing wasn't as easy as it looked.

The loud echo of a telephone ring snapped Buzz back. Mr. Ryan was haste to pick up the cordless phone his wife had set on the table before her. He rubbed her forearm tenderly as he raised it to his ear. "Hello?"

Buzz waited attentively as Mr. Ryan listened to the other end.

"Yes, this is him."

Taking a very mild form comfort in her husband's previous words, the elapsed time allowing them to settle in better, Mrs. Ryan was about to turn away to continue dwelling within her remaining anxiety. That is until her husband responded again.

"What about them? …Yes, those are my children. Is something wrong?"

Buzz leaned forward.

Mrs. Ryan grabbed the upper sleeve of her husband's plaid shirt. "What is it?" she demanded.

The space toy could've sworn he sensed Mr. Ryan's heart sinking deeper and deeper as the father of two listened to the voice at the other end. His blue-green eyes slowly grew, and his jaw gradually slacked. Mrs. Ryan responded accordingly; she raised her hand over her mouth. "Jeff…"

Mr. Ryan bent down somewhat and leaned in towards his wife. Mrs. Ryan pulled herself in closer, bringing her ear in as near as she could to the receiving end of the phone so she too could listen. Buzz, who had no choice but to remain in the dark, could only make assumptions. Those assumptions caused his eyes to widen and a knot form at the pit of his stomach. He watched the tears begin to stream down Mrs. Ryan's fear-stricken face and Mr. Ryan continue to fire questions, the terror that dwelled in his wife alone not minutes before now becoming progressively more evident in his cracking voice. Buzz felt the knot be pulled even tighter each second that passed. He could do nothing, the one thing he hated most about being a toy. All he could do was watch the wedded couple as their – as any parents' – nightmares became a reality.

* * *

I'm aware that this ended rather abruptly, but if I was to continue on with the next scene in the same chapter, it would be a long one. And I don't want to keep you waiting any longer than need be.

I really do appreciate the reviews from GoldenFlither, dmwcool1, and x-SodeNoZangetsu-x that really made it all worth while. One of the best feelings in the world is knowing that something you're doing is not going unnoticed. For that, I sincerely thank you guys and encourage reviews from those who continue to read. Even anonymous ones are great.

You guys rock. Thank you for reading this far.


	4. Cowboys Don't Cry

Consciousness just barely decided to return to Ashley. She lifted her head up ever so slowly in an attempt to avoid giving herself an even bigger headache. Her long, tangled hair fell back from in front of her face.

"Hey! Hey, 'you okay in there?"

"We've called 9-1-1!"

The voices were so full of panic, Ashley had no choice but to force her eyes open, despite the cloud of fog that now blinded her from her surroundings. She raised her hand to her throbbing head, pressing her palm against the side of it hard to stop the pounding. Still blinking to clear the fog before her eyes, she turned her head to the left towards where the unnerved voices rang. Eventually, she managed to make out the figure of a young man, likely not much older than her, staring at her through the glass.

"Miss? 'You all right? Your door's jammed; I can't get it open."

Door. Her hand went from her head to the door handle. She tugged once, then again. It was unlocked, so why wasn't it opening? Once more to make sure.

"It's all right. We've called 9-1-1. Just…sit still. You're gonna be okay."

She was okay. She said a silent prayer when this realization came to her as the man disappeared from her view. She shifted her legs. A very unsteady sigh escaped her when she felt and saw them move. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this happy to be alive.

While those last traces of fog lingered for a while longer before her eyes, it failed to blur her immediate concern for her young passenger. "Michael," she said, her voice scratchy. She turned herself around in her seat. This motion made her recognize how much her back suddenly ached. "Michael," she called again, more audibly this time. _Answer, please._

Her jaw slacked when she saw him in his car seat. His small body, so limp. His limbs resembled those of his cowboy doll. Ashley's heart skipped several beats at the sight of that blood stain on the side of his head. Even more so when she saw the small traces of blood on the side window.

"Michael." Her voice was cracking again. She reached back as far as she could, resting her hand on his knee. "Michael, can you hear me? Michael…" She shook his leg. The sudden sound of somebody tugging on the handle of the rear passenger door startled her, but didn't distract her. "Michael, open your eyes. Michael!"

Another silent prayer. It was all she could do. She quietly begged and pleaded as she turned back around and started to tug at the seat belt ineffectively. Her hand was quivering so violently, she was struggling to press her thumb into the release button on the buckle.

"Mm…"

She spun around. Relief overwhelmed her trembling body when she saw that her little brother's head had shifted somewhat, and he was squeezing his eyes more tightly shut. He released another tired moan as he slowly regained consciousness.

Ashley almost laughed. Again, she reached over and grasped his knee to bring his weary, unfocused gaze towards her. "Michael, it's okay. I'm here. Can you hear me?" The more she spoke, the more heavy her chest felt.

Michael still wouldn't open his eyes. Continuing to squeeze them more tightly shut, he became too occupied in trying to clear his head from the ache. Ashley started to cry herself when she saw the first tear escape the corner of his eye. The pain he must've been in; traces of blood had reached his chin and dripped down onto his plaid shirt.

Still, she set her raging guilt aside to be brave for him. She reached as far as she could, twitching at the pain in her back, for his hand lying on his thigh. "Michael," she said once more after finally bringing herself within reach and grasping his small hand firmly, "I'm here, buddy. You're gonna be okay."

Peculiar. When the young man had said that to her, the first thing she thought to herself was how foolish he was for trying to convince her of something he himself was unsure of.

Just outside their mangled vehicle, the anxiety was no duller among the sudden greater number of people that now stood along the side of the road, staring down the steep hill as two men circled the car. But they were no more certain of what to do than headless chickens as the trepidation that overpowered them seemed to also overcome their judgement.

The mounting sound of sirens never sounded so pleasant to both Ashley and those that crowded the street. Pretty soon, those flashing lights appeared at the horizon and began to grow in intensity as the line-up of police cars, fire trucks, and ambulances rushed down the empty street. "Please move your vehicles, folks," instructed a voice over a police car speaker.

Through her side window, Ashley peered out and watched the surprisingly long stream of emergency vehicles stop at the side of the road. The tears returned in an instant. All this trouble because she didn't slow down in time. She kept a tight grip on Michael's hand, who, thankfully, was gripping back.

It wasn't long before men and women in uniform were swarming the streets and crowding the car, readying their equipment. One officer, a dark-skinned man with hefty shoulders and a mustache, was gently yet urgently tapping on her window. "Miss?" he called. "Are you all right?"

Ashley nodded. "Yeah. My brother…"

The one-word response to his question was apparently enough. "We'll get you both out. Can you move?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she assured him. "Please, just get my brother out."

"We will. Don't you worry, Miss." He glanced over the top of the car at his fellow officers before returning to her. "We're going to break the glass of the window on the passenger's side. Do you think you can climb out from there?"

Ashley turned to see a group of people in uniform standing around by the passenger side. She was once again about to protest and tell him to instead focus on Michael. However, when she saw Michael nodding his bruised head in response to another officer speaking to him through his window, she changed her mind. Trust and cooperation was what was going to get them both out as soon as possible. "Yeah," she called.

"All right. Just hang tight for a moment. Is there anybody you'd like us to contact?"

Ashley had already leaned back against the headrest. The headache was returning. "My parents."

"What was that?"

"My parents," she repeated. "Would you call them? I can't find my phone."

"Of course. Todd," he shouted over his shoulder, "Grab your phone."

As the red-haired man in police uniform hurried down the hill with his mobile phone at hand, emergency response unites were already at work. Fortunately, they'd come to realize that there was no gas leak or any other present risk of ignition. The bad news was that all of the car doors were jammed shut. With an increased fear of what possible injuries Michael could have had besides his head wound, especially due to that shifted passenger seat he sat behind indicating a greater amount of trauma ensued on to the passenger's side of the vehicle, they couldn't take a chance in moving him excessively.

Ashley watched as the red-headed officer began speaking into the phone to one of her parents. She could only imagine the terror that filled them. She could barely contain her own.

The dark-skinned man, Officer Garrett, as he'd enlightened her, tapped on her window once more. "Ms. Ryan, I need you and your brother to shield your eyes."

She nodded and turned herself around to face her brother. "Michael," she said to him. He was more conscious now, his enquiring eyes inspecting the busy surroundings outside his window. He turned to his beckoning sister. The fright in his wide eyes dwindled somewhat when they met with her familiar face. He reached for her outstretched hand and held it for comfort. "Michael, go like this for me." She placed her hand over her eyes tightly. "Keep it there. Tight."

Michael imitated her actions, pressing his own hand over his eyes. He smiled somewhat as though it was a game they were playing.

"Lean this way." Ashley gently tugged his body towards the driver's side.

Officer Garrett was courteous enough to give a quick countdown as the firefighter with the window punch in his gloved hand compressed the spring to its maximum tension. Ashley and Michael jolted at the loud, sudden sound of the passenger window shattering. Ashley felt a piece or two harmlessly hit her thigh. She massaged the back of Michael's hand with her thumb.

Both deeming it safe to uncover their eyes, they watched the firefighters clear away the remaining glass. Officer Garrett hurried around to the passenger's side, poking his head through once the glass was cleared. "Hey," he said, "'you two all right?"

Ashley nodded. She glanced over at her brother, who continued to eye the firefighters inquisitively. "I think so."

"All right. I'm gonna need you to climb out for me."

Her face fell. She shook her head immediately. "No, I- I can't leave him."

"We need to get a stretcher in there for him. We'll need the room."

Ashley turned to Michael, who'd been switching his gaze back and forth until finally settling on his big sister. His hazel eyes remained widened with fear and curiosity as he watched her expression. All he wanted was to know that it was going to be okay.

"It's gonna be okay," she told him. She squeezed his hand. "I'm gonna be right outside, all right? They're gonna get you out." She'd been fighting it the entire time, but she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over the rims of her eyes. The guilt in her heart intensified when too began to tear up.

"Ms. Ryan," said the officer, offering in a hand.

"I won't be far. Don't be scared, okay? It'll be all right."

Michael wiped his tears away. "'Kay."

With a final look of assurance to leave him with, Ashley managed, despite her still-aching back, to haul her legs out from under her and prompt herself up. She grabbed Officer Garrett's hand for support and planted her boot-covered foot on the passenger seat. She gasped when the loose seat shifted beneath her.

"It's okay," Officer Garrett encouraged her as she regained her balanced.

Swiftly, and with a bit of help, she managed to pull herself through the passenger window. She was more than well enough to stand despite the apprehensive recommendations from a few of the emergency crew for her to have a seat, or even lie down as they prepared a stretcher. Ashley continued to assure them that she was fine and turned back to the rear passenger window, where she saw Michael's face peering through towards her.

Officers now huddled around the rear driver's side, readying the longboard stretcher, neck brace, and window punch to treat their second, more critical patient. Michael's attention was drawn to the firefighter pressing the window punch against the glass. She'd never seen him look so lost.

Ashley tapped on the glass with the nail of her index finger. Once again, Michael turned to his window. The sight of his sister's half-smiling face drained his expression any sign of visible uneasiness. Once more, she pressed her hand over her eyes. Michael did the same, and another countdown from Officer Garrett began.

~ O ~

Jessie had her ear pressed against the door. Her eyebrows furrowed as she desperately attempted to hear the muffled conversation from downstairs. It was as the voices began to fade that she alleged it to be a safe time to pull the door open so the inquisitive crowd of toys could finally hear.

She stumbled back, rather startled, when the door was pushed open from the other side, and Buzz appeared through the opening. All the toys huddled closer.

"Well?"

"What's going on?"

"Was Mom crying?"

Buzz looked up from the floorboards to the many sets of eyes, and some lack of, were focused on him. How could he begin possibly explain?

"Buzz," Jessie said softly, "did something happen?"

Slowly, still somewhat in a trance, the space ranger nodded his head.

"Out with it, boy," said Mr. Shark from the partly open toy chest.

He sighed. He knew what it was like to be in their place. "I think- Michael and Ashley were in an accident."

A series of gasps sounded throughout the room. Even Bo Peep, from her place atop the dresser, put her hand to her chest in alarm. Mrs. Potato Head seized her husband's hand. "Oh, the poor dears."

"They're okay, right?"

Buzz took in a sharp breath. "I'm not sure, Slinky, but I presume so – relatively speaking," he quickly added. The last thing he wanted to do was get their hopes up.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone, listen up," he ordered before they had a chance to take what they would from his poor choice of words. "Whatever happens, it's not in our department. We can just hope for the best. Now I managed to overhear that they're both all right, and they're getting the help they need. But again, there's nothing we can do about it."

The toys fell into silence. He had a point; there was nothing in their power that they could do. Quiet, they exchanged worried glances, each thinking about the tribulation their poor young owner was going through.

The doorbell rang throughout the house. With Michael's bedroom door still ajar, Buzz slipped back out just as Mr. Ryan started running back up the corridor to the front door. He swung it open to reveal a male, skinny officer in blue uniform standing on their porch. "Mr. Ryan?"

"Yes, that's me."

The last of his doubt about being at the right house was swept away by the brisk winter breeze at the sight of Mr. Ryan's anxious face. Mrs. Ryan appeared from behind him with a matching expression. The officer adjusted his hat. "I'm Officer Roth. I'm very sorry about your children."

"The other policeman said they're all right," Mrs. Ryan replied.

"I received word that things are going smoothly. I can't personally conclude anything, but that's a very good sign. Now, if you're ready…"

"Of course." Mrs. Ryan, quickly snatching up her coat, was the first to step out the door. Mr. Ryan slipped on his own jacket and followed her out, shutting the door behind him.

In a flash, Buzz was back inside the bedroom, running across the floorboards, and on the window ledge alongside some of the other toys. They all watched as Michael's parents were lead by Officer Roth to the police car parked in their driveway.

Buzz glanced over at his fellow toys. They all stared silently and attentively. With all of the benefits of being a toy, he truly did hate one thing about it: the limitations. Back when he thought he was a space ranger, he thought that he could do practically anything he wanted. Anything was possible. If he was a space ranger right now, he could go on ahead and fly overhead to the site of the accident and confirm for himself the wellness of Michael and his sister.

But, as his gaze continued to shift from toy to toy, their worried expressions reminded him that it wasn't just Michael and Ashley that they wondered about. It was when his eyes fell on Bo Peep, who caught sight of his gaze and returned it, that he knew of the anxiety the toys had for the third presence in that vehicle they knew the emergency crew would undoubtedly overlook. Bo pressed her cheek against her staff as she turned her attention back to the parents just as they climbed into the police car, the fear in her porcelain eyes evident.

Buzz got to his feet. His chest heaving in and out as he thought his unprompted plan through briefly once more. Jessie, along with the other toys on the ledge, looked up towards him expectantly. They waited for words of comfort, or even a simple look of reassurance.

Instead, they were shocked when Buzz heaved open the window.

"What are you doing?"

Without another glance, afraid of them trying to talk him out of it, especially since it would be the logical thing to do, Buzz hopped off the window ledge and onto the edge of the roof. He kept his footing despite the snow that coated the rooftop.

"Buzz?"

"Is he nuts?"

Deciding it was likely best not to leave them in the dark – he couldn't imagine what Jessie would do to him upon his return – Buzz turned to them one last time. "I'll be back, I promise. I'm just going to check on them."

Without waiting for possible protests, Buzz proceeded to make his way down the side of the house and towards the police car, where in the nick of time, he would latch himself onto the bumper just as it was pulling away towards the target destination.

After all, he and Woody had proven in the past that a toy doesn't have to put up with doing nothing.

* * *

I'm very sorry for the long waits between chapters. Unfortunately, I very likely won't have an update until sometime mid-April due to exams (I don't think I need to remind some people about what a terribly stressful time of year it is), so I hope you can forgive me for that.

I can't thank my reviewers enough; GoldenFlither, x-SodeNoZangetsu-x, Erin, and dmwcool1, you guys are incredible and always make my day. I sincerely appreciate the positive feedback. You're all a huge part of the reason I keep writing.


	5. Bystander

Everybody has some sort of inadvertent chronicle of their lives they hold with them. An old shirt with a visible stain could be reminiscent of last summer's family reunion barbeque. A hole in a favourite pair of pants could prevent them from being thrown away as that hole represents some great times spent with once close friends now geographically distant.

For Buzz, it was his helmet. Sure, his whole space suit had small smudges and scratches here and there with special memories attached to them, but it was the ones on his helmet he could always see, thus were most precious. They didn't bother him in the least – he looked past them most of the time, and the rest of the time, it was voluntarily flipped open anyway – but he could always remember where they came from. The star-shaped one at the bottom left, for instance, was when he accidentally tumbled to the floor while Andy was playing with him on his bed. He kind of liked the imperfections; they added character.

But the small scrapes being formed as the tiny rocks bounced and collided with his helmet would not be ones he would look at with fond memories. Buzz clung tightly to the tailpipe of the police car, head tilted back to watch the gravel road pass beneath him. It was making him a little dizzy. He instead turned his gaze to something distant: the trees and fields, with the occasional farm house in the distance. They were in a more rural part of the Tri-County area. The necessary road to follow, as he recalled, to get downtown.

It was dark for the most part. Buzz's arms were getting a bit weak from clinging for so long. But to his relief, a growing sound of a crowd and running vehicles forced his attention ahead. From beneath the vehicle, he couldn't see much, but through the darkness, flashing red and blue lights brightened the surroundings.

He heard a cry. Muffled as he was outside, but the terror was still patent. He empathized with Mrs. Ryan greatly. And he hadn't even seen the Ryans' Ford yet.

The police car came to a stop at the side of the road. As the vehicle doors opened, Buzz hurriedly hopped down and hid behind the back tire. He couldn't bring himself to look. Mrs. Ryan's cries were growing along with her fear for her children. Mr. Ryan wasn't taking it in too well either.

Peering over at them, space-suited back still pressed up against the tire, he saw the parents of his owner embracing each other and staring down the hill. Mrs. Ryan's face he couldn't see – not that he had to – but he managed to see the shock and horror in Mr. Ryan's eyes. They were frozen in place only momentarily before they proceeding forward, out of Buzz's range of vision. Unless he adjusted his view…

Buzz took in a breath and stuck his head farther out from behind the tire. For some bizarre reason, the first thing he felt was relief. He had expected worse. He'd survived much worse crashes with his space ship in his television show. Immediately, he felt guilty in even considering such a comparison. This was his owner he was talking about. This was real. The dread followed swift, and the relief ceased.

"_Mom_," called a voice. "Dad."

Mrs. Ryan was the first down the hill towards her daughter, who was slowly climbing up the steep slope to greet her panic-struck parents. Buzz could see Ashley beginning to tear up in front of them. The sobbing began when she threw herself at her mother for a tight embrace. Buzz couldn't tell which of the two was sobbing more heavily; it was pretty much in unison.

But once more, Buzz felt relief at the sight of her, only this time it stuck. A couple of harmless scratches, but nothing more. Ashley was, overall, okay.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

"No," Mrs. Ryan cupped Ashley's face, moving her long hair out of the way, smearing her tears into it. "No, don't say that. I'm so happy your okay." She pulled her back in. Ashley continued to cry with her chin resting on her mother's shoulder.

Ashley then moved over to her father and did the same thing, with him responding similar to her mother, not for a second pondering the possible cause or fault.

"Michael…" Mrs. Ryan began.

Ashley turned around, preparing to explain, but the approaching Officer Garrett beat her to it. "Mr. and Mrs. Ryan?"

"Officer," Mr. Ryan acknowledged respectfully.

"I'm happy to report that things are going just fine. As far as our paramedics can tell, your son's showing no signs of trauma, but we're taking proper precautions. We'll have him out soon."

Mrs. Ryan's sigh of relief came out more as a gasp, as though she'd been holding her breath for several minutes. Mr. Ryan pulled his girls in close.

"I'd like to advise your daughter to allow us to take her to Tri-County Hospital," – he glanced towards Ashley – "in case of any spinal injury."

_Yes, go_. Despite being unseen, Buzz nodded subtly. In Star Command, that wouldn't even be advice; that would be standard procedure.

"Of course," Mr. Ryan immediately agreed, rubbing his daughter's back.

Buzz reverted his gaze towards the mangled vehicle at the bottom of the hill. Knowing his young, helpless, innocent owner had survived what could've potentially been a fatal tragedy gave Buzz a greater confidence than the look of admiration he received from him after a post-adventure victory, before he would go running off with his arms outstretched, completing the illusion of flying with sound effects that couldn't exist in space. He'd always known Michael was a tough young man; he could endure anything, just like him and Woody.

He'd have to wait, of course. Once Michael was out and taken care of, the once-valuable family Ford would be taken away, most likely to the nearest junkyard. But before being impounded – the car was way beyond repairs anyway – they would be sure to retrieve any items of value. Cash, documents, CDs…

And Woody.

But Buzz was here to check on them all. Ashley was fine; Michael…He only had the officer's word to go on. He'd see for himself shortly. An excuse to wait. Then as Michael is taken to receive proper care, he'd check. Just quickly. Woody would be found anyway, so he hoped. And he'd be put in a bag or a box along with the other valuables and be returned home.

"Let's get the long board down here."

Coming down the hill, Buzz watched a couple of men in standard firefighter uniform carrying a long spine board by the handlebars at each end. The hill wasn't too steep, thirty degrees at the most, but the melting snow dampened the grounds and made them somewhat slippery. But the firefighters kept their balance and got the stretcher to the left side of the vehicle.

He saw movement inside the car. Michael wasn't alone in there. Pretty soon, he caught a glimpse of navy blue and yellow came into sight. A paramedic was in the back seat next to Michael, who was still in his car seat.

By now, Ashley and her parents were back at the bottom of the hill, talking to the young boy through the now-broken passenger window. He couldn't hear them over the many sounds that filled the area, but he managed to see a smile on Michael's face as his mother spoke. Buzz took in a deep breath and smiled himself. That's what he needed to see.

They'd already undone his seatbelt. The paramedic inside the car with him was assisting the other emergency crew adjusted the long board in through the rear driver's broken window. Once in proper position, Michael was assisted onto the board, ordered to move as little as possible, so Buzz presumed as Michael allowed the paramedic to carry his weight. Michael said something to him; Buzz couldn't make it out, but it got a light laugh out of the paramedic. It was relieving to see an emergency crew member smile heartily around a victim.

Before long, Michael was lying straight atop the long board. As the straps were adjusted to secure him on to it, Ashley was approached again by the same dark-skinned officer, and then was lead away back up the hill. A nearby ambulance truck had its back doors wide open. She'd likely be sharing an ambulance with her brother, Buzz supposed.

"How're you doing, pal?" Buzz heard Mr. Ryan say, surprisingly so over such high noise levels as Mr. Ryan's voice was more often one of the softest and most calming he'd ever heard.

"Good," Michael replied. He didn't move his head, as per probable instructions, but rolled his eyes instead to catch a glimpse at his father.

The paramedic raised his hand, fingers stretched out, above Michael's face as that part of his body was carefully hoisted through the broken window. "Easy, boys."

Michael's wandering eyes complementing his smile disclosed his wonder as opposed to his distress. Something else Buzz needed to see: security and ease. Thunderstorms angered him as he would be held close to Michael's chest, listening to his fast-beating heart and occasional whimpers after the louder thunder claps. He hated it when Michael didn't feel safe.

It was a bumpy ride with several emergency crewmen working together to boost the long board through the window without touching the sharp edges – like a larger game of 'Operation' – but soon enough, Michael was out. The young boy smiled at the words of support he got from the paramedic still inside the car.

Mrs. Ryan immediately grabbed her little boy's hand. "You did it, Michael," she said proudly. "You're gonna be okay." Michael nodded; interestingly, he seemed to be doing two things at once: both comforting her and being comforted.

Respectfully, his mother was asked to allow them to take him to hospital. Michael looked around once more when the words of encouragement directed towards him stopped and he was carried away from his parents – though that didn't stop them from following. Ashley soon showed up beside him and retook his hand. The smile returned at the sight of that familiar, consoling face.

Buzz returned back behind the tire, back pressed up against it. His chest was heaving in and out less rapidly now, though it was only two out of three. But at least Woody would be content. Buzz wondered how long it would take Michael to realize his absence. He peeked out once more, watching as they placed the long board on a stretcher and lifting it into the back of the ambulance truck, Ashley climbing in after him.

Just a bit longer.

The ambulance doors were pulled shut, and Buzz's attention returned to the bottom of the hill. One final check around the family car before the emergency crew slowly began to depart. The hard part was done; now it was time for clean up.

At the moment, it was nobody's concern. Mr. and Mrs. Ryan were already returning to the police car. Blast. How would he get home?

The driver's seat was empty; he noted Officer Roth still standing among some other officers. Perhaps he could be swift. But he needed a window. If he could just find a way down without being seen…

Perfect. A window: A man in firefighter uniform was bringing down a large duffle bag bag of equipment. Hazardous material cleanup, Buzz presumed. He had his back turned to avoid a second trip, grabbing the fire hose from the side of the truck. In the meantime, ensuring nobody else was watching, Buzz swiftly ducked under another vehicle, then another, until he was close enough to leap to the cover of the bag. Just as the firefighter was turning around, the space toy managed to squeeze himself into the bag in the nick of time. He quickly found himself pressed between the inner nylon and some sort of portable oxygen tank.

The bag was picked up and carried down the hill. It was possible that the firefighter would zip open the bag as soon as it was set down. Buzz would have no chance to find a hiding spot behind the car. Whoops.

"Hey, Stokes, you dropped your goggles."

Buzz nearly fell behind the tank when the duffle bag was dropped to the ground. He peeked out from the opening and saw the firefighter trudging back up the hill to the Nomex goggles he'd dropped halfway down. At this chance, Buzz leaped out, even pulling off a somersault in midair before landing behind the blown-out front wheel of the car. He felt like his old self again.

Haste was key here. The ambulance carrying Michael and his sister had gone, but the police car his parents had come in was still parked in the same place it was before. Officer Roth was with another group of fellow officers now, a group Mr. Ryan had joined, while Mrs. Ryan sat in the back seat with the door open, watching them speak. He could easily imagine how anxious she was getting. Probably about as much as he was.

He could do something about that, of course. The passenger side of the car was facing empty prairies and a few bordering trees – actually, more like another upward slope, but much less steep. The emergency crew had generally dispersed for the time being.

In a single bound, Buzz managed to reach the fender mirror, clinging onto it. He was surprised when it shifted, nearly losing his grip. He probably should've expected worse. Releasing a few grunts, he pulled himself up onto the window ledge and hopped down onto the passenger seat. Success.

"Woody," he called, quietly. In the passenger leg area, he saw Ashley's cowboy hat, flipped upside down.

"Buzz?"

Bingo. Buzz spun around to where the call came from. Or so he thought. "Woody."

"Below you."

Buzz furrowed his brow as he looked down at his feet. "Hang on, cowboy." Quickly, he jumped down off the passenger seat to the floor. He got to his hands and knees and tried to peer under the seat. It was surprisingly narrow under there. "Woody?"

"Yeah, I'm here." It didn't help that it was rather dark, but through some squinting, Buzz managed to make out that familiar cow-print vest. "Why are you?"

"The news reached home," Buzz clarified. "The others got worried."

"How's Michael?" Woody interrupted, afraid of the empathy he might receive from his friend.

"They seemed fine. Just bruises on Ashley. They're taking Michael to the hospital, but I didn't get a good look at him. You were closer to the action than I was."

"Trust me, I didn't see much from here."

"No kidding," Buzz was still squinting to see Woody clearly. His overall figure was coming into view, but no particulars other than the white of his vest. "'You okay?"

"Fine."

"How did you even get under there in the first place?"

"Other side. The seat's shifted."

At this, Buzz looked up. He got to his feet and took a few steps back. The passenger seat was lopsided compared to the driver's.

"Boy, the one cowboy night I get," Woody contemplated out loud, "And look at the mess it becomes."

Buzz chuckled silently. Michael habitually requested _Pizza Planet_. But he was sure that, if given a chance like tonight, their owner would have loved a different experience. Michael never got tired of pretending to be a deputy. Sometimes, even Buzz would be named a deputy.

"Is there room for you to get out from that side?" the space ranger asked.

"I tried. 'Afraid not. Some shaft's in the way."

Buzz prepared to come around to that side. "I'll see what I can do." After all, his plastic arms were much stronger than Woody's cloth ones.

"No, you should go," Woody quickly replied. "They'll find me and take me home. Ashley's wallet is still in here anyway."

Valuables. Right. They'd come back for those. Still, "It doesn't feel right."

"It is. You gotta get home. Michael's what matters right now."

His ride, of course. He had to hurry. One more time, Buzz got to his hands and knees, pressing his head down to the floor. Again, all he could see was a vague image of the vest. "You'll be all right?"

"Aren't I always?"

Buzz tightened the corner of his mouth. Probably best he didn't answer that.

"Go catch your ride."

Assuming it's not gone already, Buzz thought. "Hang in there, Sheriff."

The guilt wracked him, once again finding himself in a situation where he was, in essence, doing nothng. But as he hoisted his plastic body back up onto the passenger seat, he reminded himself of what he'd been reminding himself of all along. Valuables are always returned, if not claimed in person by the owners. They'd come back for the CDs and the wallets, for the registration papers and lying-around cash. Buzz had full faith in Michael being the one to personally ask about the whereabouts of one of his favourite toys.

Buzz climbed onto the window ledge, avoiding stepping on any tiny shards of glass remaining, and looked through the driver's window, up the hill. The police car was still there. Good.

* * *

Sorry for the wait, guys. I really finished exams a few weeks ago. Just some problems with summer employment and such, but all's well now. I'm back on track and motivated once again. If there's one thing I get annoyed of, is unfinished stories. Rest assured, I won't leave you guys hanging. I really cannot thank the people who reviewed enough. Good or bad feedback, it shows me that people are at least interested, and that's just plain awesome. I'm sure a lot of you know the feeling.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And remember: It ain't over 'til it's over. And in this case, it ain't over.


	6. Guilty Conscience

As badly as he wanted to, Buzz had no choice but to resist his urge to follow Michael's parents into the Tri-County Hospital. (Against sullen interior architecture, his purple and lime green plastic suit wouldn't exactly act as camouflage.) So as the mother of two hurried into the sanatorium to catch up with her children, Buzz decided to make himself more comfortable, dropping down to the ground from the tailpipe he'd clung to the entire ride and hanging out beneath the police car.

He would have decided to climb into the car through the slightly ajar window on the driver's side, but he didn't for many reasons, one of them standing out in his mind in a way he wished wouldn't. He remembered his once-compulsive, audacious spirit that brought him to climb into the passenger seat of a _Pizza Planet_ delivery vehicle after Woody's urgent instructions to refrain from being seen. A twinge of guilt struck him at the memory, which did nothing but grow in his gut as he again wondered what that clean-up crew was doing now. Was the car already at the junkyard? Did they usually collect valuables before or after it was transported? Or, because it was off the road, did they feel in no rush, and would the car just sit there for several days until they finally bothered?

In a feeble attempt to distract himself from questions he couldn't answer, Buzz instead thought about one of Woody's first questions for him: "How's Michael?" It was painful seeing that little boy so damaged and vulnerable; Buzz didn't realize how much he abhorred it. He harked back to a young Andy running into the house in tears after falling off his bike, fresh, crimson blood dripping down from the scrape of his knee. As much as that hurt Buzz to bear witness to, that didn't feel the same. Boys will be boys; it's not natural if they don't get hurt every once in a while.

This… This was different. He was livid when he'd first laid eyes on the driver responsible as his hand was shoved so profoundly into his pocket, he was half-expecting the phone to fall right through. He was confident that the partly-written message was still there.

Buzz leaned against the tire – if he wasn't careful, he'd surely dirty his suit enough to raise questions when he got home. Something else he couldn't help but suddenly panic about. He wouldn't for a second blame Mrs. Ryan staying overnight at the accompaniment of their children if need be. But if that was the case, would Officer Roth remain there and wait to take them all home? Probably not. They'd likely find another ride home, and Officer Roth would return to the Tri-County Police Department, or whatever other duties.

That'd be the last thing he needed: Two lost toys in one night. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave Michael's room.

Buzz jumped at the automatic doors of the hospital noisily opening. He quickly ducked behind the front tire as two paramedics emerged with paper coffee cups at hand. How could they be having coffee? His owner – that sweet, innocent, creative, thoughtful little boy – was just involved in a car accident! The man and woman in uniform were smiling as they conversed. Nothing was smile-worthy tonight.

"…lucky kid," Buzz overheard.

"No kidding," the woman replied. "There was talk about even letting him out tonight."

"They're not?"

"No," she said after a sip from her cup, "they wanna keep him overnight for observation."

The man nodded. "Mm. So the girl's going home tonight then?"

"They're urging her to take it easy on account 'a some acute spinal trauma, but yeah. I mean, if they can convince the mother to go home-"

The sound of the automatic door opening again for an approaching nurse drowned out their conversation. But Buzz needed not hear the rest. A relieved smile formed on his synthetic face as he slumped back against the tire. Overnight for observation. That was it? Buzz felt like laughing. He'd never been so proud of his owner.

The image filled his mind of Michael playing with a cardboard box with circular holes cut in it once brought home by his father, with Michael pretending it had been totalled in a violent crash, and then crawling out as though he'd just had a slightly bumpy landing. Buzz never considered it before, but Michael would make a great space ranger.

~ O ~

Luck continued to be on his side when, a couple of hours after the good news via a paramedic, Officer Roth emerged through the automatic door as an escort to Michael's mother. Between him and Mrs. Ryan, Ashley meandered out of the hospital with her eyes cast down, hugging herself. Buzz didn't need to see her eyes to see the sorrow dwelling within. He noted her distraction as she climbed absent-mindedly into the backseat of the car. Almost like a zombie.

In due time, Buzz found himself looking upon the familiar scene of Corner Stone Crescent. He couldn't help but notice Mrs. Fletcher, the old woman who lived a few doors down, peeking out from behind the curtain. Considering it, he supposed a police car driving down a crescent street would be an intriguing sight.

Officer Roth was courteous enough to accompany the mother and daughter up to the front door of their home. It was a sight Buzz was more than appreciative to see again, but he couple help feeling despondent silently climbing up that drainpipe and across the roof. His surprise dwindled as immediately as it came when he found himself among Michael's other toys by the window ledge.

Buzz was thrust forward thanks to an aggressive nudge from behind. He quickly regained his balance only to be shoved again. "Geez, Buzz," Jessie cried. "What were you thinkin'?" Then: "What happened?"

"Were you out of your mind going out there?"

"Is Michael okay?"

Buzz had to almost physically push them all away. "Give me a second to catch my breath, and I'll tell you everything."

"'Preciate it," Hamm said.

~ O ~

Buzz told them everything – or as much as he felt necessary, keeping out details like what he'd originally thought the cut on Michael's head, which gratefully turned out to be just a shallow scratch, was caused by.

"Oh, thank _goodness_." Mrs. Potato Head was the first to affirm.

"Could' a been a lot worse, I tell ya," Slinky said, nodding with a contented grin.

Moco, in the meantime, had picked up Mr. Potato Head and pulled him into an affectionate hug. Potato Head squirmed in the toy monkey's tight grasp. "Okay, yup, we're all glad. Darn monkey-"

"'Wonder what Woody's thinkin'," Jessie declared. It was more of a curious proclamation than that of worry as Buzz had assured her the sheriff was perfectly fine (leaving out a minor detail he sincerely hoped would not make a difference in the end) and waiting for someone to eventually bring him home. It was only a matter of time now.

To their alarm, they heard quiet footsteps closing in towards Michael's room. With little time to return to their original places, they all scattered around the room doing and froze in place as the door creaked open.

Ashley was sluggish in her movements, almost as though moving in slow motion. As she pushed open to door, she didn't enter right away. For a while, she just stood in the doorway and looked around. Her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks flushed, and her hair uneven, probably from brushing it back with her fingers so much. She turned the light on. She had to squint to adjust.

Buzz was on the bed, tilted to his side towards her, balancing between his protruding elbow and the back of his space suit. He watched as her hand slowly went up over her mouth – the same, graceful way Bo's had when he told the toys what he'd overheard from downstairs earlier that evening. Reading her expression, he could see that she was slowly coming out of the zombie stage and coming to terms with what happened. He noticed her chest going in and out as she took more shallow breaths in a desperate effort to contain herself. Buzz braced himself for the sobs.

Instead, Ashley's hand went to her chest, just over her heart, the opposite arm clutching her waist. The good news was catching up now, Buzz concluded. He was glad. The one thing he'd never seen Ashley do, and never wanted to see, was cry. She was a strong, poised young woman, something he was glad Michael had an example of other than his mother. For standards' sake.

But he wouldn't blame her this one time.

Shaky on her feet, she made her way over to the bed and sat down on the covers. Her arms wrapped around herself as she continued to look around the bedroom, at the old stuffed animals he had along the tops of bookshelves and piled in a toy hammock behind the door, at the pile of arts and crafts on his desk by the window, at the rocking chair near the peg board where his drawings and cut-out pictures he took a shine to from magazines and newspapers hung. For a four year-old boy, she was surprised to see he had more in his room than she did.

Ashley rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted, but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. She at least took her jacket off, which for some reason she'd forgotten to remove downstairs. She was about to lie down on the bed when she felt something hard and bulky dig into her back.

Turning around, she saw the all-too-recognizable space ranger lying there behind her, face pointed directly at her. She pulled him out from behind her and raised him into her focus. She pushed the purple button on the side of his suit to open his helmet. Her lip quivered for the hundredth time that night, but the sweet release of those tears on the threshold never went beyond just that.

"Honey?"

Ashley immediately lowered the toy into her lap and rubbed her eyes with the ends of her fingertips. Her mother entered before she was finished. She looked away, towards the bare wall.

Her mother went silent, and she quickly paced towards her daughter. She sat down beside her. Ashley couldn't bring herself to look. She instead returned her gaze towards the space toy resting face-up in her lap.

"Oh, Ashley…"

The cry startled Ashley at first, but when her mother opened her arms, the threshold broke immediately and she burst into tears. She fell into her mother's arms and began to cry into her comforting shoulder, grasping the back of her sky blue shirt tightly. Mrs. Ryan, arms wrapped tightly around her daughter's shoulders, wept as well.

Buzz, all the while still lying upon Ashley's thighs, couldn't help but relax as he listened to the muffled sobs and watched as they both sank deeper into each other's arms. He didn't realize how tense it really was previously until now. He was never an enthusiast of releasing one's feelings so unreservedly, but he could see and understand now how much it helped.

It took a second for Ashley to realize that her mother was crying tears of joy, so she noticed when they finally pulled away and she saw that smile on her face through the tears.

"I'm so sorry," Ashley wheezed. "I didn't mean to. The guy was trying to pass somebody or something-"

"_Sh_! No way. Don't apologize." Mrs. Ryan pulled her in again. "I'm so happy you're okay."

Ashley felt too blameworthy to bury her face into her mother's shoulder again, instead leaning her head against her shoulder and facing away. She recollected how much Michael enjoyed taking rides in the car with Ashley, where it became less of a mundane getting-from-point-A-to-B activity to more of an adventure. At this point, Ashley never wanted to get behind the wheel again. "Michael must hate me," she concluded.

"Don't say those things! Please…"

This time, Ashley was the first to pull away. She wiped her eyes. "Oh my gosh…" she muttered. She once again brushed her hair away from her face with her hand, leaving it there for a moment. "I can't believe this is happening."

Mrs. Ryan felt compelled to smile. She knew how much her daughter took after her, but one difference they always had was how chillingly calm and collected Ashley was in even the toughest situations while she herself was the one who would try to bring the entire family into a state of panic. It took the efforts of her husband and her daughter to bring her down, while Michael just always seemed to have that same smile on his face, as though nothing in the world could bring down his spirits. She admired and felt grateful for her family for that among countless other reasons.

Seeing her daughter this way certainly wasn't satisfying – whatever parent that would take solace in their child's suffering, she had no respect for – but seeing herself in her daughter and finally having the chance to be the one to calm her down instead of vice versa, Mrs. Ryan felt rather pleased to be a mother to her grown-up daughter again.

"Sweetheart, look at me." Her reassuring smile grew when she did. "This time tomorrow, we're all going to be sitting downstairs in the family room, watching TV, and it'll be like nothing ever happened."

Ashley turned to look at the digital clock. It was after midnight. "_This_ time tomorrow?" she teased, despite herself.

Mrs. Ryan chuckled. "Give or take."

A small laugh finally escaped her. She picked up the space toy off her lap, leaning it instead over her palm facing up, and stared down at it. With the other hand, she brushed away her tears. With her thumb, she did the same with a small grain by the red circular button of the toy's plastic space suit. Suddenly: "Did they take our stuff out of the car?"

Taken aback briefly, Mrs. Ryan eventually nodded. "Somebody just dropped a box off now. He said it should be everything."

Ashley was about to stand, but Mrs. Ryan beat her to it. "I'll get it, it's all right. Lie down for a bit." With that, her mother left the room and retreated down the stairs.

Blindly, Ashley placed the space toy aside. Her eyes locked on the empty bedpost from where Michael usually hung the cowboy hat their father had given him. She thought and wondered about the restaurant and how busy it would've been tonight. It usually closed around eleven on Fridays and Saturdays.

It didn't take long for her mother to return with an old box full of contents.

"This is all of it?" she asked, surprised it was only one box.

"It should be, the guy said." Mrs. Ryan set the box on the bed next to her. "He said they checked it over a few times. Your dad, too."

"Are they taking it to get repaired?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so, honey. It's beyond repair now. They'll probably take it to a junkyard. Thank heavens for insurance, right?"

Ashley didn't answer, casting her eyes downward.

Mrs. Ryan smiled and leaned forward, placing a hand on the side of her daughter's head, which Ashley welcomed gratefully. She planted a kiss on the top of her head. "It could've been much worse," she whispered. Before leaving the room, she called back, "Don't forget to get some sleep."

"Okay," Ashley lied. There was no way she was sleeping tonight.

As soon as her mother was gone, Ashley pulled the box closer to her and opened it up. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she began to rummage through it, pulling out important personal belongings of her own, like her purse and her spring jacket, which had been in the back seat since last spring. She pulled out Michael's cowboy hat and hung it on the empty bedpost, inadvertently and carelessly knocking her store-bought over the rim and letting it fall to the floor. She nodded subtly, as though that's what had been bothering her all evening.

Moments passed, and the silence of the room lingered with Ashley staring down into the box, eyes darting from one thing to another. The Ziploc bag full of spare change had been haphazardly tossed across the bed, landing by Buzz. That was the last thing on Ashley's mind.

Finally, she looked towards the door and stood. "Hey, Mom?" she called, sliding a couple of the contents off of her lap and onto the bed before leaving the room.

Buzz was less cautious than usual as he unfroze, a look of puzzlement on his face. He jumped to his feet as the other toys came to life. They all watched him in concern.

"Well?" It was Bo. Jessie was next to her with a similar expression.

Buzz was atop the edge of the box, clinging to it with his arms, staring down at the contents. Mostly CDs and paperwork, as well as Michael's yo-yo at the bottom corner. But Buzz saw no flash of yellow plaid or cow-print fabric. Not brown leather-like plastic nor denim.

"Woody?" Buzz said, only to be greeted by silence. He pushed some of the things around just in case.

Not a sign of him.

* * *

Close, but no cigar. I just wanted to thank you guys for your patience. I know there tend to be large gaps of time between updates. There comes a time where the word _summer_ doesn't necessarily delightfully end with the word _break_. More like the words _course_, _job_, _volunteer_, and so on.

That said, you don't know how much I appreciate your reviews. While I had certainly hoped, I didn't expect for people to be able to have any sort of interest in these characters I've created, especially considering how different it is from where the toys ended up in the threequel. I'm grateful that you guys are able to keep an open mind.

A sincere thanks to the people who reviewed my last chapter: x-SodeNoZangetsu-x, Elocinn, and GoldenFlither, you guys are the ones who motivated me to write this. I highly encourage reviews, not for the sake of review count, but for the input, positive or negative.


	7. Indistinct Instinct

Breathing heavily, Buzz hid behind a toppled oil barrel, waiting for the bulldozer pushing a load of broken-down metal pieces to pass by. The night was bitter, and there was a layer of frost forming over his helmet. The strong scent of burning rubber and exhaust fumes filled the air as well as his nostrils despite the helmet that would normally be designed to prevent exterior gases to enter. He watched as the front rim of his space suit came in and out of view as his chest heaved in and out from breathing so hard. He needed to slow down before his batteries started to die. _Not an option._

The trip hadn't been easy, but with his strong determination to drive him onward, he'd managed to make it to the junkyard unseen. The same goal remained as he peeked out from behind the barrel towards the car compactor down the mountain of car parts he was on. That familiar glint of silver came into sight. Alone, it sat there between two concrete walls about ten feet tall. Its mangled condition proving hopelessness for possible repairs became that much more real at the sound of crackling metal and running machinery loudly resonating all around him.

He needed to act quickly. It was a simple enough mission he kept running through his mind, but time and stealth were of the essence. He inched his way closer towards the edge of the barrel, preparing to make a dash down the hill. Pieces of broken metal and other materials once part of a vehicle crunched under his feet like dead leaves.

"Buzz," called a voice urgently, startling the space toy. He spun around to his other side. Far off in the distance, he saw Jessie standing on top of a hill of car parts, waving her hands in the air for him. His eyes went wide and his brow furrowed concurrently. How had she managed to tag along?

And was that Bo standing there behind her?

Suddenly, over all the other deafening sounds of the junkyard, another machine started up. This one's engine was far louder than any sound he could ever imagine. Gears clanked and Buzz stood, frozen in his place, watching as the car crusher began to shudder. The large hunk of thick steel hanging overtop the car – that same silver Ford once was used by the Ryan family, the same one he himself had been taken in countless rides in – began to gradually descend.

"_No_!" he heard Jessie cry.

If there was to be any chance left, he had to move now. _Go now!_ he urged his stiffened legs.

Too late. He watched agape and his plastic-suited chest stopped heaving in and out as he watched the car give in to the pressure suddenly being created by the thick steel coming down on it. The thunderous noise of metal being crushed roared in his ears. Glass shattered and fell to the ground. He could see, the car's interior, the seats Mr. Ryan, Mrs. Ryan, Ashley, and his precious owner once all sat in get crushed by the car's ceiling compressing down on them, deforming them entirely. Then, through it all, a distinct snap. _No…_

The noise didn't reside as the thick piece of steel continued to descent. It was only Jessie's sobs that added to it. He heard her call his name. "_Buzz_!" she was screaming. She was screaming _at_ him. Like she was angry at him.

Bo's voice, more gentle, called his name from behind the cowgirl. He was amazed he could hear that sweet, gentle whisper of her soothing call. But he couldn't bring himself to answer for the disaster he was responsible for. The disaster he, all this time, could have prevented.

"Buzz."

Buzz looked up to see Bo standing directly in front of him.

"'You okay?"

He rubbed his head, then the back of his neck. "No."

Bo clutched her staff closer, resting the top of her head against it.

Their attention was temporarily grasped by the sound of Michael's bedroom door creaking open. His toys, nowhere near prepared, froze where they were (including Moco, who happened to be holding Potato Head's nose and mustache with the end of his tail at the time) and waited for whoever was there to enter. The relaxed when they saw Mickey, the family Maltese, stride into the bedroom quietly. His white tail began to wag at the pleasing spectacle of all of Michael's toys scattered around the room, out of their usual places.

Buzz leaned forward from where he sat on top of a Michael's favourite book of short stories lying on the floor by the bookshelf. With his chin resting in his palm, he watched the small dog pace silently around the room. One thing he found amusing about Mickey was how completely different he was from Buster. Unlike the Davis' dachshund, Mickey was quiet, calm, and much to some of the toys' impartial disappointment, wasn't trained to fetch.

This was especially interesting as they realized how somewhat unalike the Davis family was from the Ryan family in the exact opposite manner. Where Mrs. Davis, Molly, and Andy were rather to-themselves and had few relatives they kept in touch with, the Ryans were much more outgoing and cherished family time more. Ashley was somewhat surprised when she saw Andy's bedroom taken over by his little sister. Despite their different lifestyles however, like how he and Jessie somehow managed to attract one another, the Davis family found themselves to be rather close friends with the Ryans, and vice versa. Buzz could especially see how much Andy, anytime he was over, admired that unique, naturally family-bound quality the Ryans possessed.

That said, Buzz felt very fortunate to be among two good families with above-average family values. It was not unlike their own toy family.

Buzz's brow furrowed in sudden curiosity when he saw Mickey, as he was sniffing along the floor, making his way over to the box of belongings an officer had dropped off not long ago. If the dog had caught Woody's scent, perhaps there was a chance that Woody had once been in the box. Buzz tried to rationalize such case as Mickey quickly closed in on the box.

Like Buster, Mickey had taken a shine to Woody right away. Buzz believed it was because of how he sort of resembled Mr. Ryan with his tall, thin stature and long face. Slinky admitted, as a dog himself, it was because he knew the exact place to scratch his canine companions behind the ear.

It disheartened Buzz when Mickey didn't sniff at the box for more than a second, instead just making his way around it towards the toy chest at the other end of the room. He rubbed the back of his neck. How could they have missed him?

"I mean…he was right there. I could've brought him home myself." It took him a moment to realize he was thinking out loud.

Bo, who still stood there quietly in front of him, having been watching his flurry of expressions with earnest attention the entire time, stepped closer to the troubled toy. "Oh, Buzz, sure you could have," she said.

Buzz raised an eyebrow. Was that the reassurance he had coming? He appreciated her honesty and all…

"But that doesn't change a thing," she continued. "It's not always up to you to save the day."

"You didn't stop me when Al abducted him."

Bo ignored that and smiled whole-heartedly. "You trust Michael, don't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, then what's changed? He'll want to know where his cowboy doll is, don't you think?"

Buzz nodded distantly, taking in the new reality. "I suppose so."

"If you won't trust Woody to take care of himself, then trust that little boy. Trust the people that love him to do whatever it takes to make him happy."

As it sunk in, the space ranger finally looked up at her delicate, porcelain face. She had a way with reassurances, but he sometimes wondered if the favour had ever been returned to her. "You're not worried?"

Again, Bo smiled, even laughed softly despite the situation. "If there's one thing I've learned about Woody, it's that he can never stay away for too long."

"Forgive me for bringing up Al again…"

"This is one of those times where you just need to step back and trust your instinct." She set her staff down on the other side of her when she heard the bleating of her sheep nearby. "What does it tell you, Buzz?"

Buzz contemplated. Longer than he probably should have. "I really can't decipher it."

Mickey had made himself at home there on Michael's road-patterned carpet. The toy cars that had been cruising along the roads made of carpet fibres angrily shifted back and forth at the large, canine roadblock causing a traffic backup.

"Big sister approaching!" Slinky called from where he and Michael's stuffed elephant and tiger watched the hallway through the partially-open door. "Places!"

That's exactly what all the toys took, Buzz included after dashing across the bedroom through the crowd of scattering toys to the bed. He plopped himself down on his side against the soft mattress.

Mickey was immediately on his feet when he heard creaking floorboards making their way towards Michael's room. Rather than waiting, he pushed through the tight opening between the door and the doorframe and sauntered out of the room. They wondered if he was smart enough to purposely pose as a distraction as they all got to their places.

"There you are," the toys heard Ashley say. Buzz perked his head up. He could hear Mickey's collar jangling like he was being picked up off the ground. When the footsteps proceeded in the other direction, away from Michael's room, Buzz relaxed and pushed himself up with his elbow. Then:

"Honey?"

"Yeah, Mom."

"You're still up?"

A deep breath. "I can't sleep."

There was a pause before Mrs. Ryan continued. "I'm going to the hospital to pick up your dad. I'll be right back. You'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine." He heard her approaching the staircase.

"We'll stop by the car on the way."

Buzz's eyebrows rose at this.

"Good. Thanks a lot," Ashley responded.

Buzz turned his attention towards the window. Options suddenly began to run through his mind. Scenarios about how they would have missed the sheriff doll in the first place also came with that. Perhaps he had gotten out and was looking for a way back. What if he'd started down a path that would get him lost? Or, worse, if he was still trapped beneath the seat and couldn't be seen. What if they never find him? _Or_, somehow, they did manage to find him under the seat but there was no way of getting him free. What if they just didn't bother with the effort and decided to make up for it with a whole new toy? The plausibility of the last one both terrified and angered him. Would they be so selfish? To them, Woody was nothing but cloth with a pull string. They didn't know him the way he and his friends did. They couldn't care less about the bliss he brought their little boy.

He suddenly found himself wondering what Woody was thinking. It was him that usually worried about the worst possible case. Did he see the probable hopelessness that Buzz did?

Buzz concluded that he had but one good option, one that involved taking matters into his own hands.

"I'll let you know if I find anything."

"Thank you." Another pause. Buzz pushed himself to his feet and prepared to make a dash for the window, when: "Actually, hang on one sec."

The sound of footsteps proceeded up the stairs and became louder as Ashley drew near Michael's room. Buzz just needed to hide, that's all. Under the bed, behind the dresser, there were several good hiding spots all around him. _Just pick one._ Then, once she was gone, get outside the same way he did before.

It wasn't the hiding spot he was hesitant about. It was something else that held him back. As he turned his head around to face the window, he happened to catch a glimpse of the toy chest. It was was partly open, wedged with Mr. Shark's body, and from the small crack, he could see Jessie's face, illuminated by the bedside lamp's light. She made an expression towards him that said one thing:

_Don't_.

The door opened once more. Mickey was still in Ashley's arms as she walked towards the bed. She was dressed in her pyjamas now, a T-shirt with plaid flannel pants, her hair still a tangled mess but at least now pulled up into an untidy ponytail. Her fingers wrapped around Buzz's torso and raised him up. Mickey sniffed at him and licked the side of his suit until Ashley pulled him away.

Silent the whole time, she brought him down the flight of stairs to where Mrs. Ryan was waiting there in her jacket and keys to the family van. All of Ashley's movements seemed weak and as though she was in a deep trance, including her raising her arm and holding the space toy out to her mother. "Would you take this to him?"

It took Mrs. Ryan took a second to accept the toy from her. "Of course, sweetheart."

Another hug was in store, Buzz knew. He caught a glance, as the two women were embracing, of Ashley's bloodshot eyes. He'd never seen her so in pieces and derelict. She was the strongest woman he ever knew besides Jessie and Bo.

"We'll be home soon," Mrs. Ryan assured her. "Try to get some sleep."

"I will."

~ O ~

Apparently, the hospital staff had been encouraging Mr. Ryan to go home and return in the morning. That was the only reason he was leaving; his intentions had been to stay with his son until the time of his release came along. Buzz knew Mr. Ryan well enough to know that he would be there by his little boy's side for weeks if he could. Come to think of it, Buzz realized, he is a lot like Woody after all.

Before his and his wife's departure, however, there was one more thing to do. That's when Mrs. Ryan carried him into the hospital room where Michael was lying under the white sheets in a hospital gown covered in little ducklings. "Hi, mommy," he proclaimed. Buzz noticed the bandage wrapped around Michael's head, his blonde hair tangled under it. Besides that, he wore a wonderful smile on his face that Buzz both appreciated and worried about. Had he forgotten about the toy he left behind?

"Hey, sweetie," Mrs. Ryan whispered. "How're you feeling, huh?"

"Good." His voice came out a dead beat hum.

"Good, I'm so glad. You're a strong young man."

Michael nodded. He pointed towards the bandage. "Look."

"I see." She was proud of him, Buzz knew, but she choked out her response in a way as though she was silently praising a higher power for their good fortune. "Listen, me and Daddy are gonna go home, but we'll be back in the morning, okay? If you need anything, there are people here you can ask. All right?"

"'Kay." Michael said. He sounded tired. He stretched his arms up across the pillow.

"You'll be okay? Did you want anything now?"

He shook his head no, his eyes remaining closed.

Mrs. Ryan nodded understandingly, smiled, and then kissed her boy on the cheek. "Here," she said, holding up Buzz who, despite the darkness of the room, could be seen thanks to the dim glow of his space suit. "From Ashley."

Instantly, Michael's sleep-deprivation became unnoticeable. He swiftly pushed himself up and took Buzz from his mother. Another smile graced his lips as he observed his space toy. Buzz smiled confidently back. Michael stroked the front of his space suit, a moment of silence passing.

Buzz waited. And waited. Until finally…

"Woody." He looked up at his mother.

Mrs. Ryan fondled the back of Michael's head, silently urging him to lay it back down on the pillow. "Shh, don't you worry. Daddy and I will get him."

Michael nodded appreciatively.

~ O ~

The night was quiet, but not the quiet he had become used to over the past few hours. This quiet was…peaceful. Almost a relief, even. With nothing but the gentle breathing of his young owner resonating throughout the small room, along with the comfort of his small arms, Buzz felt as comfortable as though he and Michael were back at home.

Still, as Buzz lay there against his little boy's arm, he continued to think – he was incessantly realizing how much he overdid that at times. This was, after all, the second time he had missed his chance to come to the aid of his friend. The friend who saw him through, though with an appropriate amount of difficulty, one of the toughest times of several toys' lives. All that worrying, all that consideration, and he still couldn't bring himself to do it. What stopped him? What could possibly be more important that he'd desert his closest friend in his time of need?

Michael shifted in his sleep. It certainly wasn't uncommon, but it was what followed that averted Buzz's attention from his thoughts.

"Mm… Don't worry, Buzz."

Buzz, remaining frozen, shifted his widened, curious eyes towards his owner. He saw that his were still closed, probably on the edge of sleep. He seemed so…relaxed. Just as he should be. Just as Buzz liked it. Buzz felt himself being pulled in closer, being gently pressed up against Michael's chest as a sigh escaped his smiling lips.

At that moment, the space ranger suddenly understood his instinct. He wished it had just been a little clearer in the first place.

* * *

About one chapter to go, but I may or may not have an epilogue in store. We'll see, but for now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Thank you so much to Kris, Misshumanoidtyphoon (I love your profile image, by the way), GoldenFlither, x-SodeNoZangetsu-x, and Elocinn for your awesome reviews. I can never say it enough: They sincerely do mean a lot. To know that people are so open-minded about in whichever setting our heroes interact gives me an odd yet great sense of relief. It's nice to see a positive response to what goes on in my less-than-impressive imagination.

On that note, please continue to review. I do very much appreciate it.


	8. Homeboy

In a lot of ways, as cliched as it may seem, Michael shared some common traits with the Sun. He was the light of many lives, the warm comfort of a day in the cold, callous world. Even through the clouds, he somehow always managed to brighten his surroundings. Also just like the Sun, he always liked to get a head start on his day, waking around the same time those rays emerged from the East. His father always joked about how Michael was one of the last people somebody would want as a roommate.

The blinds were drawn, but that didn't stop that tint of azure from shining in through its cracks, turning the normally cream-yellow walls into a serene grey-blue. Michael's green eyes were open and alert since he first awoke to the sound of singing birds perched on the windowsill outside. But instead of staring towards the window, he was lying on his side under the thin sheets, intently watching the closed door. As he watched, it would not open. He glanced towards the clock on the table by his bed, but he was only just beginning to tell time, and with the small hand pointing between the five and the six, he had not the patience to interpret it.

So instead, he sat himself up in bed, exhaling deeply. He rubbed his eyes with a fist to rid of the remaining grains of sleep. He became anxious when he noticed the only sound he could hear, alongside with the quiet hum of one of the nearby machines he'd gotten accustomed to, was the squishing sound his eyeballs made as he rubbed them. Silence anywhere other than the comfort of his home always put him on edge.

When he returned his hand to the mattress to lean against it in his upright position, his fingertips brushed against hard plastic. He looked down at his space toy lying there next to him. He smiled and picked him up by the leg, then set the toy on his thighs. "Hi," he whispered. He moved his hand to his throat when the greeting came out scratchy. He tried speaking again. "'Morning." Better, he decided.

He quickly turned his gaze over towards the door when he heard the sound of upcoming footsteps. But they faded the same way they grew as the presence outside simply walked by his room. He pouted and looked down at Buzz. As though listening to a suggestion made by the space ranger himself, Michael nodded his head in an understanding manner.

With that, Michael lifted Buzz up only to be able to toss the white sheet off the lower half of his body and bring his knees up closer to him. With his hand balancing the toy, Michael stood Buzz up on his knees and, with his other hand, pressed the circular button on his suited chest. Just like every time he did it, he grinned wide when the wings popped out, which with the sudden thrust of kinetic energy, nearly making him lose his grip of the toy.

The flashing red and green light bulbs at the tips of the wings ended up becoming Michael's reminder of the night before. He reached up and touched the bandage wrapped around his head. He sensed the sweatiness of his forehead beneath the gauze, and it was definitely itchy. But he was strongly urged not to fiddle, so he didn't.

Michael thought little more of it and quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed. He wiggled his toes as they hovered rather high above the ground. With Buzz in his grip, wings still out and preparing for launch, Michael hopped off the bed and tread softly towards the door barefooted. He adjusted his hospital gown, paying heed to the draft he felt behind him.

The door handle was levelled with his head. Michael reached up and turned it, only to then be followed by the loud squeaking noise the hinges made as he pushed the door open. Poking his head out through the crack, he glanced up and down the hallway. It was even quieter out here. When he had first been brought, there were at least women and a few men dressed in matching collar shirts and pants roaming the halls and greeting him in his room. His father had told him that, if he ever needed anything, he'd ask one of them. But they were nowhere to be found.

Perhaps they were nearby, Michael deliberated inwardly, and then looked at Buzz as though silently mulling it over it over with him. Pushing the door farther open, he stepped out of his assigned room, holding Buzz out in front of him. It was when he heard the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the hall that he pulled him close to his chest and hugged him there. For a little while, even after the footsteps faded away, he simply stood there in the middle of the hall in his hospital gown, hunched over in a protective manner. His eyes were wide and glossy. He wanted his family.

Slowly, he proceeded forward, bare feet skidding across the floors. The dimmed lights and no windows gave off the impression that it was still the middle of the night. Michael was used to stepping out of his bedroom and gradually seeing those rays of sunshine spread across the house. Only then would he deem it appropriate to run into his parents' bedroom and jump on their bed. But there were no windows. He wanted to see the Sun so badly.

His eyes shifted suspiciously, and suddenly, a great revelation came to his head that cheered him up immediately. "_Shh_." He held Buzz out again. "Zurg's here somewhere," he whispered.

He reeled back just as he was about to make a turn into a wider hallway when he saw, at the end of it, a man standing there silently. With a coffee cup at one hand and the opposite forming a fist and resting against his hip, he was staring up at a television screen, which displayed footage of multiple areas of the hospital. He wore a navy uniform and a police hat, his badge hanging from a thin chain around his neck. He was tapping his foot somewhat impatiently, checking his watch a couple of times in a row.

Michael, alone in his infirmary gown and space toy now once again safely tucked beneath his arm at his chest, slowly and cautiously approached the man in uniform. His bare feet silently coming down on the floor gave the man no forewarning of his presence.

"'cuse me," Michael said, just loud enough to be heard.

The small voice obviously startled the man, as he flinched somewhat mid-drink of his coffee. He turned around to see the little boy in hospital attire and gauze wrapped around his head. Michael never took his curious and cautious gaze off of him.

"Hey, there," the man said with a smile. He was of regular build for a man in his thirties, his distinguished features revealing relative signs of maturity. His eyes were dark and friendly, softening at the sight of Michael standing there staring at him. He bent down from the torso towards him to depict his friendly persona. "What are you doing out here?"

Michael shrugged, now hugging Buzz close with both arms. "Who are you?" he finally asked.

"I'm a security guard," he replied, tipping his hat pleasantly. "I'm here to keep you safe." Finally noticing the plastic toy in the boy's arms, he broke into an even wider smile and gently poked Buzz square in the chest. "Just like Mister Buzz Lightyear here."

Michael gave him an open-mouthed grin, both surprised and proud the man knew Buzz.

"I have a son a little older than you. He can't get enough of Buzz Lightyear."

With that, Michael held Buzz out in front of him for the man to see. He giggled softly when the man, with Michael's silent permission, pushed the blue button on Buzz's chest. "_Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!_" repeated his sound system.

"Very cool," he said. "I'll bet you feel _really_ safe with him around."

As though it were a new insight to him, Michael nodded his head. "Yeah," he agreed. In his own way of returning the favour, Michael restored Buzz to the safety of his arms and lightly kissed the top of his plastic helmet, leaving a temporary imprint of his lips behind.

The man let out a quiet chortle. "Here." He stood up straight and offered his hand to Michael. "I'll walk you back to your room."

Diffidently, Michael accepted his hand and walked alongside the security officer.

~ O ~

"He was really nice," Michael continued as his mother pulled out his clothes for him to wear on the ride home. "He tol' me he saw an astronaut once!"

Mrs. Ryan nodded her head. "Did he," she rejoined with only slender interest, but with a smile on her face at seeing her boy in such high spirits after his night spent by himself in such a dismal place.

"M-hm." Michael raised Buzz, who was in his lap the whole time, up to look at him for the hundredth time that morning. Between the time his parents had left him last night and when he'd met the security officer, he'd spent a good portion of his night alone. Without the four corners of his own bedroom walls surrounding him, he wasn't used to that. Buzz, however, was the one thing that kept him feeling secure. Even after the security guard's final goodbye followed by the hospital staff gradually pouring back in for a new day, it was his one and only Buzz Lightyear that stayed there by his side. He couldn't imagine what he would've done without him.

His finger slipped onto the green button on Buzz's suit. "_I protect the galaxy from the threat of invasion._"

That wasn't the only thing he protected. Michael pulled his toy into him, gently pressing him against his chest for a warm embrace. "Thank you," he said quietly. When he set him back down in his lap, he raised the plastic arm so Buzz's hand was by his forehead in a saluting manner. Those distinguished blue eyes shone proudly from beneath those eyebrows as they always did.

_My pleasure_.

In the corridor just outside his room, Mr. Ryan was approached by one of the doctors, a middle-aged man with a mustache and silver hair. Watching the them speak, Michael reached up to touch the wound on the side of his head. He still remembered how much his head hurt when it hit the side window, which at the time would've probably been downward. Perhaps upward? It was beside him, that was for sure, whatever the angle the car was at. Now that the bandage had been removed, he could feel the stitches.

"Don't touch, honey," his mother reminded him. "You don't want to break them."

Michael lowered his hand as she returned to his bedside with a pair of socks and his favourite sneakers that flashed brightly every time he took a step.

She set them down on the floor by where his feet were dangling down over the side of the bed. "Did they bring you anything to eat for breakfast?"

Michael shook his head.

"You must be hungry." She bent down to his level. "How 'bout I bring you something from downstairs? Do you want a chocolate milk and hash brown?"

"'Yes, please."

"Okay." She made her way towards the door. "I'll be right back."

Michael nodded understandingly, but his mother was already gone from sight. His father wasn't distracted, simply continuing his conversation with the doctor. Michael became bored with trying to read their lips and started playing with Buzz. "To infinity and beyond!" he exclaimed in a soft voice. He hopped off the bed and started making Buzz fly around the intravenous machine.

Just before his imagination could take off, his ad hoc playtime was quickly cut short when his attention was grabbed by an uplifting presence in the doorway. "Hi, Ashley!" he cried.

Ashley smiled. While her eyes were still a little bloodshot from sleep deprivation, she looked a lot better. She stood straighter and the smile was more genuine than forced and unsuccessfully hiding her worry and guilt as it was when she'd been here earlier this morning. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she walked into the room with her red but gleaming eyes on her brother.

"Hey, Michael," she said. "Look who I just ran into."

Not a second later, Andy appeared in the doorway.

* * *

I'm running out of things to say at the end of chapters. ;) Of course the obvious thank you for the people who reviewed; you guys are amazing. I know this chapter was a little shorter, but in the back of my mind, I sort of liked the idea of ending it where I did. Hopefully it'll make sense later.

Thanks (and I can never say this enough) to those who continue to leave me the nicest reviews I never thought I'd even possibly deserve. I'm writing for such kind, awesome people, and I feel very fortunate for that.


	9. One More Try

Andy was in a co-op program in college. Because of this, his schedule tended to vary from spending either fall or winter semesters working to taking full-course loads during the summer. Michael had come to dislike this as it resulted in Andy coming around less often than he did when he and Ashley were in high school.

Michael had known Andy for as long as he could remember. While Ashley had many friends, Andy was one of the few Michael got extra excited about whenever he came around or otherwise had the chance to spend time with. At social get-togethers, not very many of them played so dedicatedly with him the way Andy did.

That's why it hurt Michael that much more to disappoint him.

"Hi, Michael," Andy said with that same friendly smile. His gleaming blue eyes became fixed on him in a way that usually made Michael feel very comfortable, but in this case, made him even more insecure. Either Andy didn't notice it or looked past it, continuing to smile affably. "How're you feeling?"

Michael leaned back against the bed, the mattress being too high for him to sit himself onto without having to climb. He hugged Buzz to his chest in a self-conscious, defensive manner. He didn't speak, nodding instead as though to say, _Fine_.

Andy appeared to suddenly tense up as well. He was used to Michael running up to give him a hug. Ever since Michael was an infant, Andy always managed to get a smile out of him, even if it was something as simple as allowing him to tug at his hair or paw at his face. The only time he recalled the little boy becoming awkward and shy around him was that day he gave Woody to him.

He nodded understandingly. "Hey," he said, bending down to Michael's level, who continued to stare at him with a frown. "I'm glad you're all right." The awkwardness was so bizarre. So he turned his attention towards Buzz, his eyes brightening again immediately. "Hi, Buzz."

Buzz wore his usual teeth-bearing grin as Andy ran the tip of his finger down the side of his space suit. But where Andy smiled at the toy, Michael unexpectedly dropped his shoulders in defeat.

"Andy," he said softly and, to both Andy and Ashley's alarm, with a hint of sadness and remorse, "I gotta tell you something."

It tore Andy's heart in two when, as Michael said this, he held the space toy out for Andy to take. Even more so, it hurt Buzz. It was one thing when a child had a guilty conscience over accidentally breaking a lamp or spilling a glass of milk. But over something he couldn't possibly prevent – something Buzz had a chance to put right – he couldn't stand it. He was almost ready to comfort him on his own.

But luckily, Andy seemed to have it under control. "Hey," he said with a reassuring smile, "come here." Ignoring the plastic toy being held out for him to take, he wrapped an arm around Michael and helped him up onto the bed. It was only as he was doing that with a minor struggle to support Michael's weight with a single arm that Buzz noticed that Andy's other arm had been behind him the whole time.

Despite the slight heartbreak Andy felt at the way Michael was staring down at his dangling bare feet in a means to avoid eye contact, he kept the smile. He found this to be a good a time as ever. "Before you tell me, I've got something for you." With that, he pulled Woody out from behind his back.

It took Michael a second to notice and take it in, but as soon as his eyes became fixed on Woody, a suddenly-vivacious gasp escaped him and those green orbs began to shine once again from under his bangs. The toy appeared to be unscathed, still wearing that hat and smile with the same honour and pride Michael had grown to love most about his favourite cowboy.

"Woody!" he exclaimed, stretching out his hand, but not grabbing the cowboy doll. He looked towards Andy first.

Andy shook his head at this. "Don't even, pal," he assured him compassionately. He closed the gap between the toy and Michael's reaching hand. "He's yours."

Michael, while still maintaining those last few drops of timidity, took Woody with much gratitude and hugged him next to Buzz. And for a while, that's all he did was hug both of his toys close. Andy smiled wide and stroked the side of Michael's head – the side not mended by stitches, brushing his hair back.

Behind him, still by the doorway with her arms crossed across her chest, Ashley grinned as well. _There_ was the Michael they both knew.

Michael looked ready to thank him, but Andy intervened before he got the chance. "Don't thank _me_," he said. He glanced towards Ashley. "I ran into your sister on the way up here."

Ashley shrugged and looked at her shoes.

"She told me you were feeling bad."

At that, some of the glow in Michael's eyes disappeared again.

"Listen to me for a sec," he asserted, stern but sincere, gently grasping Michael's shoulder so he would face him directly. He couldn't recall the last truly serious moment he and Michael shared. "And I want you to remember this for as long as you and I are pals. And that's forever, by the way."

Michael nodded, hugging Woody and Buzz close.

"I gave Woody to you because I knew you would love him as much as I do. I gotta admit, I've lost and broken him a lot of times before. Same goes for Buzz."

"Really?"

"Of course," Andy proclaimed matter-of-factly. "I was a kid. We're allowed to do things like that."

The corner of Michael's mouth tightened at that.

"You wanna know the amazing part about that is?"

"What?"

"It's that no matter what we do, no matter where we leave them or how bad we break them, they'll never stop loving us. And we'll never stop loving them. Right?"

An enthusiastic nod. "Right."

"'Ever notice how Woody and Buzz never stop smiling?"

Michael laughed and nodded once again, glancing down at his toys' faces as though to confirm. He heard Ashley lightly chuckle at that curious statement as well.

"That's because they're always happy as long as you still care about them."

Michael smiled proudly towards Andy. "I do."

"I know you do. And that's all that matters."

Even if they tried, Buzz and Woody could not have been more proud of their owners, both previous and present, at that moment. Andy knew them well. And they were both glad that, from now on, Michael would now know that as well.

~ O ~

It was hard to find a quiet moment between their arrival home that afternoon and after their family members and close friends finished giving their condolences for the nightmare Michael, Ashley, and their parents had endured. But by that night, Mrs. Ryan had kept her promise, and the four of them were, in fact, in the family room, with nothing but each other's company to keep their spirits up and help them move forward.

Michael, in all his enthusiasm and lasting daze from the stream of family and friends coming in and out of his house, left Woody and Buzz in his room as he joined his parents and big sister in a mellow night of mindlessly watching the television.

In that silence, Woody and Buzz sat up from where they were on Michael's bed. Woody looked towards Buzz, grinning shrewdly. "What'd I tell you?"

Buzz grimaced and nudged Woody in the arm with a fist.

"Ow," said the cowboy before being swarmed by a horde of toys led by Jessie.

~ O ~

The week went by quickly. Ashley had spent the week doing her best to motivate her mind to focusing on her studies. Michael had done his own personal best to play quietly. (Ashley always laughed out loud every time Michael would accidently push one of Buzz's buttons or get Woody's or Jessie's pull strings caught somewhere, and then shush them afterwards.)

The Ryans found themselves at the following Saturday too quickly. With Ashley continuing to prepare for a midterm that upcoming Monday, Mr. Ryan at work, and Mrs. Ryan at the car insurance place, Michael spent the day roaming the house.

Sometime in the afternoon, Michael wandered right into the kitchen where his sister was bent down towards the open refrigerator. Michael's eyes were cast downwards. One hand dragged across the wall while the other held Woody by the torso. He wore his cowboy hat and a frown.

"Hey, buddy," Ashley proclaimed when she spotted him at the corner of his eye. She did a double-take before noticing the despondent look in her brother's eyes. "What's the matter?"

Michael didn't answer, continuing to hang his head.

"'You bored?"

He nodded.

She sighed, looking at the soda can in her hands, then back at Michael. "Well, mom's not home until later. 'Can you hang in there a little longer?"

Downcast still, he nodded half-heartedly.

Ashley twisted her mouth in thought as she looked upon her unenthused brother. "Hey," she said again, "I'm almost done the last chapter. I can take a break and we'll play together a bit, all right?"

Michael looked up. "Can we go- Can we go to that place?"

"What place?"

As he racked his brain for the name, he held Woody up in the hopes of having her figure it out first.

She did. And she froze when she did. She shifted her eyes back and forth between Woody and Michael. "Oh, well…I don't know, Michael." The truth was that she didn't feel entirely ready to get back behind the wheel of any car. In fact, earlier that week, in a state of post-traumatic stress, she'd told her mother she would probably never drive again.

"Please?"

Ashley pressed her lips together in consideration.

~ O ~

"Chin up," Mrs. Ryan instructed. Michael complied and she zipped his coat up all the way to near his neck. She made the extra effort of making sure it didn't get caught in the yellow handkerchief tied loosely around Michael's neck. "There."

Michael excitedly pushed his cowboy hat back on his head, grinning widely. He then moved his hand down to hold Woody with two hands.

Ashley peered through the door's window when she saw a pair of headlights enter their driveway. "He's here." She opened the front door. "Let's go."

"Have a great time, guys," their mother declared happily. She kissed her son on the cheek before he rushed out the open door, Woody's hanging limbs swinging with every step.

Mr. Ryan was standing behind his wife, leaning against the stairs' banister. "Say 'hi' to Andy for us."

Ashley nodded. Michael was already making his careful way down the front porch steps. Before following him out the door, her mother leaned in and whispered, "You're driving us to breakfast tomorrow." Ashley rolled her eyes with an amused half-smile as if to say, _We'll just see about that_. Her mother laughed. "Enjoy yourselves."

"Bye, Mommy! Bye, Daddy!"

"Have fun, pal!"

Buzz, all the while, was already by the window of Michael's bedroom, staring down at where Andy's car was in the driveway. He grinned as he saw Michael run across the driveway and hop up and down impatiently by the sliding door. One step at a time, they'd decided. Ashley was the type to get back up onto the horse – Woody had assured him of this. And Buzz knew he was right. Michael was the same way; Buzz watched Michael jump into the back seat of Andy's car as soon as the door was open. Already set for a new adventure.

Resting his arm across his knee, Buzz followed the car with his gaze as it pulled out of the driveway once they were all settled inside. With the light inside still temporarily on, he caught sight of Andy and Ashley's smiling faces. He could not have been more relieved at that. They deserved a good time. And no matter what may come, no matter what stumbled into their path, they would take it on.

"Hey, Buzz," called Mr. Potato Head from where he and several other toys were huddled around the toy car track. "'You in or what?"

After all, it was just as Bo said: One way or another, they always found their way back home.

* * *

And there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed. Thanks so much to everybody who reviewed.


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